


Little Bird

by slightly_ajar



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Kidfic, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-07-09 09:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19885519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightly_ajar/pseuds/slightly_ajar
Summary: “Why is there a baby in my War Room?”Mac and Jack go to recover stolen intel but return with a kidnapped baby.  Mac finds himself caring for her while the team try to find her family and discover why she was taken.  Being a substitute father has Mac learning new things about himself and asking questions about his past and his family.





	1. My baby don't care for shows, my baby don't care for clothes

Riley snapped her laptop shut. Her back twinged as she shifted from the hunched position she’d held for - she glanced at the clock on the wall - hours, apparently.

“I’ve finally found something! I have to show this to Mac.” She tucked her rig under her arm as she stood. “He’s in the War Room.” 

“Okay.” Bozer looked up from his work. “It will be quiet in in there.” He wrinkled his nose. “As least it will be if it’s not, you know, resonating of the dulcet tones of Matty hollering at people.” 

“Right.” 

Since becoming part of the Phoenix foundation Riley had been buried alive and disavowed by her country, prevented a plane crash and been involved in the theft - and return - of art worth millions of dollars. No day was ever the same as the one before, circumstances, goals and threats could change in a moment creating new problems and presenting new chances. She loved that about her job, the variety and the sense of achievement and purpose it gave her. The two years she’d spent in jail had been a litany of empty, numbing hours. Like time stopped at the grey prison walls leaving the inmates slouching towards more pointless, bleak tomorrows. Mistrust and antipathy had been required to survive and living with her wits on high alert in a constant undercurrent of potential violence had been exhausting. As an agent she was challenged every day and she met those challenges by working together with people who loved the thrill as much as she did. 

She nodded to familiar, friendly faces on her way through the corridors. Agents, technicians, medical staff. The best and brightest in their chosen areas. Riley sometime still felt a kick of joy when she remembered she was one of them, she was actually considered a peer to some of the people who were top in their fields. And she thought of some of those people as her best friends. Remarkably, they thought the same about her. 

The War Room’s glass was clouded, Mac must have activated the privacy settings. Riley tapped her fingers against her laptop’s case, her nails clicking out a staccato rhythm. Hopefully the solitude had given Mac the time and space he needed to adjust to his current situation. He loved life as a Phoenix operative as much as she did, maybe more, and Riley was sure watching him rise above every obstacle thrown at them on missions would never grow old. But the demands being placed on him now needed skills different to the ones he was used to calling on. Riley could see him doubting his abilities, scared in a way she’d never witnessed before. She’d seen him terrified by the height of the surface they were on and frightened by the prospect of losing someone he cared for but watching him question himself, scared of his own inadequacies, was especially hard because she didn’t know how to help him. She didn’t doubt him, not at all, but she knew that nothing she said would help quiet the insecurities singing in his head. 

“Mac, I…” Riley pressed her lips together to stop the rest of her sentence when she stepped in the War Room and saw Mac. 

He was sprawled in one of the leather chairs fast asleep, the sleeping baby curled against his chest. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and his head listed to one side with his hair flopping across his forehead. One hand curved protectively over the infant's back and the other resting on her side, its thumb held tight in a little hand. 

They were so peaceful, and so stupidly cute, that Riley couldn’t bear to disturb them and tiptoed to quietly sit opposite them to do some more research before they woke. It wouldn’t hurt for her news to wait a little while. They both needed the rest. She opened her laptop and pulled up the page she had been working. Her fingers hovered over the keys but before she could lower them to start typing a thought blossomed unbidden and she felt her lips arc upwards in a mischievous smile. 

She shouldn’t really. 

It was a probably childish, possibly unprofessional, maybe an invasion of privacy and Mac might not be pleased…but she couldn’t resist. Biting her lip to hold in her giggles, she pulled out her phone and took a photo of Mac and the baby. 

One tiny little picture couldn’t hurt. 

  


_Thirty six hours earlier_

His slide over the hood of the car blocking his way was worth a score of at least an 8.1 Mac thought. He landed next to Jack and fell into a sprint as soon as his feet touched the floor. Jack threw grin of camaraderie to Mac as he ran beside him, he could never resist a hood slide either, saying they made him feel like a badass action hero. He liked to score his efforts out of ten with points awarded for duration, speed and style. Mac had been pleased the slide he’d just performed, being particularly pleased with the dismount. 

“How long do you think your little distraction back there will hold up the bad guys?” Jack huffed around his growing breathlessness. They’d been running since Mac’s booby trap had surprised the men they were following. 

“It’s not an exact science, it could be five minutes, maybe ten, if one of them has a pocket knife we might only have two.” 

“You’re a font of no knowledge this morning. How about you give me some information that I can actually use?” 

Their footsteps echoed around the dull concrete walls of the parking structure they were running through. The dimly lit building smelled of exhaust fumes and damp and was a clichéd venue for an exchange. The gang they were hunting were apparently extremely low on originality. 

Mac expected the handover of the mysterious package the Phoenix had been sent to intercept to be done by a man in a trench coat and dark glasses. 

“Excuse me, how about next time you set the trap and I’ll be the lookout?” Mac changed direction to dodge around a SUV jutting out of its parking space. His own lungs were starting to burn with exertion as his pulse pounded. He felt good. Invigorated. Alive. “How good are you at tying double constrictor knots?” 

“I’m pretty good at an uber-destructive headlocks, how about that?” 

Mac laughed as he skidded to a halt opposite a car with the license plate from their intel pictures. “I’ve got some data you can use, that’s the car we’re looking for.” 

“Good! And since we don’t have time to dilly-dally let’s open the door the Jack Dalton way.” Jack shattered the dark glass of one of the car’s back windows with a blow from the butt of his gun. 

Mac pulled open the door and ducked his head inside to be faced with what the tinted windows had hidden. 

A baby. 

A baby dressed all in pink, blinking up at him with contemplation in her large eyes. Mac stared, stunned, as the baby gurgled and put her fist in her mouth. 

“So, what is it?” Jack nudged Mac’s shoulder. “What’s the package? A file? A flash drive? The Ark of the Covenant?” 

“It’s a baby.” 

“A baby? As in, a _baby_?” 

“Yes, as in an infant.” 

“But it can’t be!” Jack shoved past Mac to push his head into the car. “That’s a baby!” He gaped at Mac with large, panicked eyes. “It’s not, we can’t, I don’t…”

“Those are all good points,” Mac grabbed Jack’s arm as an angry shout rebounded through the parking garage, “but since our friends are coming and they don’t look like responsible caregivers we’ll have to take her with us.” 

“Have you taken leave of your senses? We can’t take a baby to the Phoenix!” Jack’s alarm sent his voice rising by almost an entire octave. “Matty will skin us alive!” 

“We have to take her. She is the package we’ve been sent to intercept. I don’t know how or why but she’s it.” Footsteps and shouts reached them and Mac looked up to see two men rapidly approaching through the lines of cars. He pointed, “Besides, we can’t leave her with those guys.” 

“You’re right,” Jack growled, swearing, “We can’t leave her with the Ant Hill Mob over there.” Jack aimed his gun at the armed and angry men heading their way. “We have to go now, bud.” 

“I’ll get her,” Mac climbed inside the car and, shaking his head in disbelief, unclipped the baby and lifted her out of her car seat. She wriggled in his arms and started to grizzle. “No, don’t cry, everything’s fine.” Mac bounced her up and down, “Uncle Mac and Uncle Jack are going to take you away from the bad men and back to a nice, safe building where out boss will eviscerate us. Shhhh shhhhh.” He grabbed the changing bag from the floor of the car and thrust it at Jack. “You hold this, I’ll take the kid.” 

They ran towards the exit, Mac with a baby tucked against his shoulder and Jack with a bag covered with pictures of teddy bears bouncing against his back. 

  


“Why is there a baby in my War Room?” 

“See, Matty, that’s a long story.” Jack face crinkled up as he reconsidered. “Actually, no it’s not. You sent us to get a package. She was the package. Bada bing, bada baby.” 

“She was the package?” Matty pointed to the baby in Mac’s arms. 

“She was in the car.” Mac paced the War Room with the baby nestled against his shoulder. She watched the room with wide eyes, taking in her surroundings and new friends with silent solemnity. “We picked up her diaper bag too but it just had baby stuff in it, nothing else. Her blanket was in there so we know her name is Cora.” The yellow knitted blanket was draped over Mac’s shoulder for the baby to rest against, her name was embroidered in red thread in one of its corners. 

“Okay.” Matty said, “It’s happened. I truly have reached the point where nothing surprises me. But why is she in here?” Matty swept an arm in front of her, taking in the whole room. “This is the command hub of a covert intelligence operation with access to advanced technology and classified information and you are pacing up and down in it like Mr Mom!” 

“She cries when Mac puts her down.” Jack pushed himself up from the leather chair and stood next to Mac, holding out a finger for Cora to grasp. “She likes him. I think it’s because he took her out of the car, she’s impinged on him, like a duckling.” 

“Imprinted. And humans don’t do that.” Mac argued. 

“Call it what you want, bro, but she’s taken a shine to you.” Jack leaned in close to the baby who reached out and tried to grab his nose. “Haven’t you, little ducky?” 

“It’s not me it’s this.” Mac waved a corner of the blanket up and down. “She’s responding to the familiar smell and texture of her blanket.” 

“Nah, it’s you.” Riley didn’t look up from where she was peering intently at her laptop.” She followed you around the room with her eyes when you gave her to Jack to hold. You’ve got a sidekick. It’s cute.” 

Mac’s opened his mouth to protest and realised that all friends were all gazing at him with enchanted expressions, all clearly charmed by the child in his arms and the endearing picture the two of them made. 

“Aww, come on. Blondie,” Matty wrinkled up her nose as she smiled. “It is kind of cute.” 

He flushed and turned his back on them, walking towards the window bouncing Cora gently, the baby a warm, trusting weight in his arms. She was a sweetheart, Mac had to admit, with her big eyes and soft hair and tiny fingers that had curled into a fist clutching a handful of his shirt. If the situation was reversed and Jack was the one with a sleepy baby on his shoulder Mac would have said that it was cute too. 

After he’d finished laughing. 

Cora shifted and sighed as she settled against him, her heavy eyes closing. 

Mac didn’t know anything about babies. He’d played with the young cousins that visited Bozer’s family when they were growing up but he’d never really looked after them. His role with them had involved playing Peek a Boo with the smaller ones then Hide and Seek as they grew older. 

“As fun as giving Daddy Mac a hard time is, maybe we should think about what we’re going to do with little Cora over there.” Jack moved behind Riley, looking at her laptop over her shoulder. “Any luck, Ri?” 

“Nope.” Riley sighed and flopped back in her chair. “I can’t find any reports of a missing baby with her description. I’ve been through every list I can think of, all of which were depressingly long by the way. Mac, could you test the fabric of her blanket, like you did with the counterfeit cash, to track down where it’s been?” 

“Yeah, that could work.” Mac eyed the blanket on his shoulder. “I’ll take her down to the lab to get that started.” He’d only need a tiny section of fabric to get a reading, and it could hold clues to where her family lived. They must be frantic, Mac thought, the baby twitched in her sleep, scrunching up her face and flexing her hands, her family must be sick with worry. 

“Good, you do that and I’ll send someone out to buy supplies for when you take her home tonight.” Matty said, her eyes on her tablet. 

“Wait, what?” Mac froze. “What? When I take her home tonight?” Matty’s words echoed around Mac’s head like an emergency klaxon. She couldn’t mean that, she couldn’t possibly mean that. 

“We can’t send her to Child Services, she’s a witness who could be holding important evidence. How could we possibly explain that you rescued her while carrying out a covert mission?” Matty threw up her hands as if Mac was asking her to explain an obvious fact, like why she never let Jack carry a Phoenix credit card. “She can’t spend the night in Jack’s man cave so you are the obvious choice. She’s “impinged” on you remember? And Bozer will love it.” 

“I don’t know anything about babies.” Mac was aware that his voice was coming out as a whine but he couldn’t help it. “Couldn’t someone else…?” He looked at his friends for help. 

“Don’t look at me.” Riley held up both hands. “I didn’t babysit when I was a teenager. I was too busy trying to hack the FBI, I barely know which end is up when it comes to little kids.” 

“But I don’t know anything about babies!” Mac repeated. He couldn’t take Cora. He just couldn’t. He knew that babies needed feeding and changing and to be kept away from sharp objects but what did he know about parenting? He was sure his experience pretending that he didn’t see the giggling six year old “hiding” behind a plant pot didn’t qualify him as a foster parent. He had no idea how to take care of the vulnerable little soul in his arms. 

“Do what everyone else does when they don’t know something: Google it. Or you could, oh I don’t know, improvise.” Matty fixed him with a stern look. “Why are you still here? You should be in the lab testing the rugrat’s blanket.” 

“Matty, I really don’t think-”

“That actually doesn’t concern me.” 

“There has to be another-”

“Not that I’m interested in.” 

“I’m not-”

“Get to the lab, Mama Duck.” 

“But-”

“Now!” 

With his heart heavy with resignation and his gut churning with dread, Mac turned and walked out of the War Room. 

Jack followed, singing My Baby Just Cares For Me under his breath. 

“Shut up!” Mac hissed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are welcomed, loved and adored. 
> 
> If you would like to come and say hello on Tumblr I’m there as [Sky-larking](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sky-larking)
> 
>   
> The chapter title comes from the song My Baby Just Cares For Me by Nina Simone, which is what Jack is singing at the end of this chapter. 
> 
> I Googled 'knots that are difficult to untie' which is where I found out about double constrictor knots - I have no idea if they actually are difficult to undo.


	2. Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine

Mac stared at the results on his computer screen, scowling as he swiveled from side to side on his chair. The graphs and charts and colour coded percentage markers told him nothing. Each one of them was useless. 

Cora cooed and hummed from her seat in Mac’s lap as she gummed at the teddy shaped teething ring Mac had found in her bag. She’d slept for a while in a safe nest of lab coats and soft insulation as Mac ran a sample of her blanket through a long series of tests. When she’d woken, hungry and bad tempered, he’d heated up a bottle of her formula and fed her as Jack alternated between chuckling at him and suggesting children’s songs for Bozer to download to Sparky’s hard drive. 

“If I hear that shark song one more time, Boze, I swear to God I will strip Sparky down to his component parts with my bare hands.” Mac said, tapping his fingers on the table as the progress bar on the computer program inched towards one hundred percent complete. 

Bozer flicked a switch on the back of the robot’s neck to silence it. “Yeah, it is possible to have too much of a good thing.” 

Jack gathered the baby up danced around the lab with her and Bozer as Mac collating data and refined results. They jigged and waltzed to the music coming from Sparky’s chest plate and Cora basked in the attention. The giggles and coos of her enjoyment filled Mac’s chest with warmth as he battled with the Mass Spectrometer. Watching his friends hold the baby with quiet assurance, talking with her, bouncing her in their arms, had envy plucking with cold fingers at the cheerful glow. They were so at ease with her. If she had a combustion engine or a microprocessor he would know what her needs were and how to take care of them but with living, breathing, feeling child? Mac was afraid of getting something wrong. There were too many variables. Too much that he didn’t know and couldn’t infer. 

“Let’s see how Uncle Mac is doing.” Jack came to stand behind Mac with Cora in his arms as he hunched over the computer. “Uncle Mac is using that computer thingy to do some clever science stuff to find your mom and dad. He’s smart like that.” 

Cora leaned forward to reach out and filled both of her fists with Mac’s hair, babbling happily. 

“Don’t promise anything yet,” Mac said, his eyes watering, “I’m not getting much from this.” The results he’d seen so far were unhelpful. He’d refined and rechecked over and over but the details were still vague. 

“Let go of Uncle Mac’s hair, it’ll be hard for him to concentrate if you scalp him.” Jack carefully eased strands of blond hair from the grip of tiny fingers. “You just need to wait, something will come up, it always does. You see this building is packed full of genius types. One of them will be able to use their big brain to figure out where you belong. Bozer!” He called across the room, “Download some more songs, Cora here likes music. She’s going to be a karaoke champion, aren’t you, Duckling?” 

Jack held the baby high above his head and she waved her arms, squealing in excited glee. “I’m going to have to introduce her to Iron Maiden. Start her off right. You need to get kids into the right music while they’re young before they can find out about any of that techno mumbo jumbo.” 

Cora squealed again, then hiccupped. 

“Jack, if she spits the bottle I gave her up onto you you’ll only have yourself to blame.” Mac said. 

“That’s a good point, bro.” Jack lowered his arms and settled the baby onto his hip. “Uncle Jack doesn’t want an up close and personal reintroduction to your lunch.” 

“Nobody wants that.” Leanna walked into the room with a bag in each hand, “But it wouldn’t be the worst substance that’s wound up on the floor in here.” 

“Really,” Jack asked, his interest piqued, “what was?” 

“You really don’t want to know.” Leanna dropped the bags she had been carrying on the floor next to Mac’s feet then took Cora’s hands in one of her own. “Hi, cutie.” 

“Hello, sweetie,” Jack answered with a grin. “You been shopping?” 

“I’ve been out buying everything a healthy six month old baby needs. That’s how old we estimate she is, based on her length and weight. I’ve bought formula, wipes,” Leanna nodded at the bags she’d brought, “more diapers, extra clothes and a little book with animals and touchy feely pages because it was cute. The car seat is being fitted into your car now, Jack.” 

“There’s a car seat being fitted on my GTO?” Jack drew back, flustered and fluttering like a Regency heroine with an attack of the vapors. “You don’t put a baby seat in a GTO!” 

Leanna lifted her chin and met Jack’s eye. “You do if you are driving a small child around and you want to keep her safe.” 

Jack deflated, his shoulder’s dropping. “Yeah, okay. Here, take the baby,” he put Cora down into Mac’s lap, “I need to check that they are doing it right. I don’t want anyone damaging my car, they might dent it, or scratch it, or breathe on it wrong.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Leanna raised an eyebrow, her voice thick with sarcasm, “The Phoenix’s top engineers might need help installing a store bought car seat.” 

Jack held up an imperious finger as he started to leave the room. “They may know about engineering but they don’t know that car. Bozer!” He called again as he backed away, “Don’t forget to find some decent music for Cora, the good stuff, all the classics.” 

“I’ll get right on it.” Bozer raised his fist in a thumbs up sign. He plugged Sparky into his console, hit a few keys on the keyboard and came over to join Mac and Leanna, looking at Mac’s monitor. 

“Any luck?” 

“No, just generic compounds. Washing powder, grass pollen, car exhaust. All I can definitively say is that this blanket has been in California.” 

“Well, thank god that the Phoenix has invested so much money in this state of the art technology.” Bozer said, deadpan. “I don’t know what we would do without it, it’s so helpful.” 

Leanna hummed and squinted at the results on Mac’s screen, “Something will turn up.” 

“Riley’s upstairs working on some kind of major social media, facial recognition, deep impact, hard landscaping search thing. She seemed pretty confident it would find something useful,” Bozer ruffled Cora’s hair. “You know Mac, me and Leanna can take over here. You should take Cora to the house. If she’s going to be staying there you should probably let her get used to the place.” 

“What do you think,” Mac looked at Cora, who gazed up at him. “Do you want to get out of here?” He was going to have to take her home sometime. Delaying the inevitable wasn’t going to change anything. 

Fortune favours the bold. 

Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. 

A stitch in time saves nine. 

Mac stood, trying to think of other platitudes that would help convince him to get up and start moving. 

“It’s not rocket science,” he said. Which was a shame because Mac knew at least three ways to make a rocket from the items on the table next to him. Rockets Mac understood. 

Cora hiccupped again. 

  


The baby got a guided tour of the house. Mac walked from room to room explaining to her that this was the kitchen, that was the deck and that was his experiment on the combustibility of corn flour that he really ought to move. It felt foolish but Mac was sure that Cora would be more settled if she knew the sights, sounds and smells of her temporary home. They sat together on the longue floor when the tour was over, eyeing each other warily over the toys Mac placed between them. 

“So,” he said, picking up her teddy bear teething ring and making it walk down her leg and tickle her toes, “here we are.” 

Mac had been scared the first time he’d seen an genuine IED outside of a training situation, he’d been afraid when he’d been hundreds of feet above with ground on a floating trampoline but sat under the gaze of the baby opposite him he felt something more complicated than fear. He wasn’t frightened of failure due to an accident or a miscalculation, he was terrified of his own inadequacies. “How about we come to an arrangement?” he asked the baby. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, I’m making it up from one micro-second to the next but I promise that I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe. You’ll just have to try to be patient and I’ll try to be calm? What do you say?” Mac held out a hand that Cora took and pulled into her mouth to gnaw on his thumb. “Okay then, it’s a deal.” 

  


When Bozer arrived home from the Phoenix Mac built Cora a high chair out of a stool, parts of a deckchair and duct tape, and sat her in it to feed her from one of the jars Leanna had bought. The baby wrinkled her nose at the meal and Mac didn’t blame her. The orange mush looked like…orange mush. 

“There must be something nicer than that she can eat.” Bozer scowled, offended that an unsatisfying meal had been served in his kitchen. “I’m sure we can mash something up for her that will taste better. I’ll check it out.” 

They found Tangled on Netflix and propped Cora up on the sofa surrounded by cushions to watch it looking like a tiny princess on the world’s most comfortable throne. She loved the movie, particularly Max the horse, cooing and wiggling her fingers and toes whenever he appeared. She fell asleep halfway through, snoozing peacefully while Mac and Bozer watched the film all the way through to the end. 

As the credits rolled they looked at each other over the top of Cora’s drooping head. 

“Did we just sit here and watch all of that?” Bozer expression shifted through confusion into alarm. “When the small child we put the Disney movie on for fell asleep we didn’t turn it off then watch something with explosions and fast cars?” 

“Come on, you liked that movie.” Mac teased. “Admit it, I saw you smiling during the song with the lights.” 

“I am not prepared to acknowledge my alleged enjoyment of that Disney movie at this time.” Bozer said primly. “Besides, you laughed at the bit with the mime artist.” 

“The bit with the mime artist was funny.” 

“It was, wasn’t it?” Bozer said, holding his hands up, palms out, as if pressed against a flat surface and pretended to be trapped inside a glass box. 

  


Cora slept well. Until she didn’t. 

Mac was jerked into consciousness at around 2am by a loud and heartfelt wail. The baby was sat up in her cot with her blanket pooling around her waist, fat tears rolling down her cheeks and her mouth opened wide around her screams. Mac holding her in his lap didn’t help, neither did rocking her back and forth while whispering ‘shhhh’ and soon Mac found himself pacing the floor of his home in the light of a lamp made from an old stereo cradling the baby in his arms and singing every nursery rhyme he could remember. 

Cora’s wails continued, high pitched and ear splitting. Her little body was still tense and restless with distress against Mac’s shoulder as he ended his eighth repetition of Row Row Row Your Boat. He switched to singing The Elements song out of desperation and fear for his sanity and had reached, ‘And manganese and mercury, molybdenum, magnesium’ when the door to Bozer’s room opened and his head peeked out. 

“You okay, man?” He mumbled. The hair on one side of his head was squashed flat while the other side stood up in a riot of angles, and his eyes were barely open. “Do you need any help?” 

“No, I’m okay thanks. One of should get some sleep.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes. You can be on breakfast duty in the morning.” 

“Okay, I can do that. I’ll make the coffee extra strong. If you change your mind or need anything just knock.” 

“I will. Goodnight, Boze.” 

Bozer gave a little wave and closed his bedroom door. 

Cora’s hands were curled into furious little fists, her cries were broken by shuddering breaths and her face was bright red. 

“I know little bird, I know.” Mac crooned into her downy hair. “Everything’s wrong. This isn’t your house, you’re not in your own bed and I’m not you mommy. We’re looking for her, we’re going to do everything we can to get you back to her, I promise.” 

The lounge was lit by the golden light of the lamp and the ambient glow of Los Angeles shining outside the windows. Mac paced up and down talking to Cora about the experiments sitting on the shelves and the ones he had planned for the future in a soft crooning voice until he felt her relax and grow heavy in her arms. When he was sure she was deeply and completely asleep he lowered her back into her cot with more care than he had ever shown moving explosive material, and fell back into his own bed. If he fell asleep quickly he thought, looking at his clock with a groan, he would have time to have nowhere near enough sleep before he needed to be up for work. 

  


Mac was woken by cheerful baby babble sung in a range of pitches, the crescendo being a note so high it made Mac’s eyes water. 

“Good morning, little bird.” Mac groaned, rolling onto his side to find Cora sitting up in the travel cot next to his bed. She let out an excited cry when she saw him, waving her arms with energetic flaps. 

“You slept well then? Lucky you.” 

She burbled at him and held up her arms. 

“Do you want to be picked up?” 

Cora held her arms higher, her face tightening with intent and her fingers tensing as they reached for him. 

“I’ll take that as a yes, come here then.” Mac heaved himself up into a sitting position and pulled the baby out of the cot and into his lap. She gave a little shriek of joy and flopped forwards, trusting that she would be caught by capable hands. 

Mac looked down into Cora’s wide, earnest eyes, steadying her with his fingers wrapping round her ribs. “The thing is,” he said. “I don’t know how to do this.” He rubbed a thumb over the back of one of her hands and she took it in her tiny fingers, her grip warm and strong, “I don’t know what to do. I know numbers and physics and chemical reactions. I know all the words to The Elements song and which new elements have been added to the Periodic Table since it was written. If you want something to explode, if you want to stop something from exploding, or if you want your car to outrun the combat vehicle chasing you I’ll know how to help. But I don’t know babies and parenting. I don’t know about that kind of love.” 

Cora pursed her lips, puffing a blubbery huff at his concerns. 

“Maybe if my mom was here -” Longing seized Mac, an ache clenching in his chest with a force he hadn’t felt for a long time. The rush of need to see his mom was so strong that his breath stuttered. She would have known what to do, Mac was sure. She would have known what to feed Cora, she would have known how to hold and care for her, she would have taught him the kind of gentle, nurturing love that Cora needed. If the cancer hadn’t taken her she would have taught him how to be a loving parent simply by being one. Mac’s memories of her were a hazy collection of warm, safe, vanilla scented recollections that were precious to him but weren’t clear enough to deduce what she’d done to make him feel so loved. He knew that he been cherished but he didn’t know how she’d made him feel that way. 

“I know how to be a friend, a brother, a soldier and a spy. I can make you a high chair out of bits that I have lying around and help figure out a way to track down where you’ve been by the trace evidence on your blanket but I don’t know if I know how to care for you like a parent should.” He tickled the little feet kicking at his ribs and the baby squawked and curled up her toes. “I’m scared of getting it wrong.” Since it was just the two of them, since the door was closed, he was still hazy from sleep and Cora wasn’t going to repeat what he’d said Mac admitted his fear out loud. “I’m scared of getting it wrong.” he said again, his voice cracking on the catch in his throat. “What if I hurt you, or scare you, or make you feel like you don’t matter.” 

Cora waved her arms up and down and blew a raspberry at him. 

“Really?” Mac asked her, a smile pulling at one corner of his lips. 

She let out a squeal and reached for him. 

“Is that your way of telling me to stop talking and get you some food?” Mac asked. He looked over at his clock. “It is about time for Bozer to be up and making breakfast. Shall we get up and go to say good morning?” 

He sat Cora onto his hip and walked into the kitchen where Bozer was stood in rumpled pyjamas making toast and eggs. 

"Morning, Mac.” Bozer called, vigorously stirring the contents of a frying pan with a spatula. “Morning, Cora, I’m making eggs for you. I looked online and it said that babies your age can have scrambled egg and I thought it had to be better than that ectoplasm looking stuff that came out of the jar we gave you yesterday.” 

Cora cooed. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Mac strapped Cora into her high chair and Bozer put a steaming mug of dark liquid in front of him. 

“And I made you coffee, Mac.” Bozer said. “You look like you need it.” 

“Thank you, man.” Mac lifted up the mug and inhaled deeply, breathing in the smell of the dark roast. He closed his eyes as he took his first sip and focused on the feeling of the hot coffee flooding his taste buds and its warmth spreading through his limbs. He would swear that he could actually feel the caffeine filtering up from his stomach and into his head to unclog the thick sluggishness settled there. He took second sip, sighed and opened his eyes to find Bozer feeding Cora eggs and smiling at him. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m fine. I just really needed a cup of coffee.” 

By the time breakfast was over Mac almost felt like a functional human being again and there was scrambled egg on the floor, on Bozer’s pyjamas, in Cora’s hair and in-between her toes with Mac and Bozer none the wiser to how it got there. 

“Okay,” Mac said to the baby as he picked her up after she and everything else had been wiped clean. “Are you ready to go to the Phoenix and see how the search for your family is going?” 

Cora hummed and drooled on his shirt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the healing incantation in Tangled
> 
> I have two nephews and a niece and I have absolutely done the thing where the kids have gone to bed and I’ve sat watching the Disney movie that was put on for them through to the end even thought they’re not in the room any more. The last time that happened it was with Tangled. I didn’t mind, I love Tangled.


	3. And there may be many others but they haven’t been discovered

“How’s my little duckie?” Mac heard Jack call as he walked into the Phoenix with Cora in his arms. Jack jogged up to them and leaned in close to gently squash his nose against Cora’s. “Good morning, duckling.” 

Cora, full of the bouncy energy of a food buzz and tickled pink by Jack’s attention, gurgled and patted his cheek with her chubby hands. 

“You’re good aren’t you?” Mac replied for the baby. “Bozer made her eggs for breakfast and she enjoyed throwing them at us.” 

“That sounds like lots of fun. Have you been having a good time making a mess in Uncle Bozer’s kitchen? He gets grumpy with me if I do that.” Jack looked Mac up and down. “It was a rough night then?” he asked. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.” 

“Mac recoiled a little. Blinked. Then recoiled even more. “I beg your pardon?” 

“You look tired.” Jack peered at the dark marks shadowing Mac eyes. “Like ‘deprived of sleep as a method of information extraction’ tired.” 

“She woke in the night and it took some time to get her back to sleep.” Mac shrugged. “I get it, she’s in a strange place with strange people, that would be unsettling for anyone, even people who were old enough to understand what was happening to them.” 

“You’re missing your mommy and daddy, hmmm?” Jack‘s large hand rubbed circles on the baby’s back. “Don’t you worry, we'll find them.” 

“So this is the baby that crashed into your life yesterday?” Mac turned at the sound of his father’s voice. James was approaching them, his gait relaxed and his hands in his pockets. He glanced between Mac and Cora, eyes lighting with a smile. 

“This is her.” 

“She’s a cutie! Aren’t you?” James took one of Cora’s tiny hands in his own and shook it. “Hello there, it’s Cora isn’t it? It’s very nice to meet you.” 

“Mac couldn’t remember ever seeing his father interact with a baby before. They weren’t part of a big family, they’d never gone to gatherings where lots of kids ran around getting underfoot and demaning adult attention. The only child other than himself that Mac remembered his father talking to was Bozer. Up until that moment if anyone had asked him to describe how he thought his father would be with babies Mac would have said cautious and reticent, but James was beaming. 

“How is sudden and unexpected fatherhood treating you?” he asked. 

“I watched a Disney film all the way to the end despite the fact that the baby fell asleep about a quarter of the way through it, there are jars of goo in my kitchen cupboard and I sang twelve verses of The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round at two thirty this morning. Apart from that it’s fine.” 

“Oh, I remember that,” James rocked back on his heels. “I remember pacing the floor in the middle of the night when you were a baby. I got so sick of nursery rhymes that I started singing The Elements Song.” 

Mac responded with a hum, trying to process that new piece of information. He couldn’t remember being that small. He couldn’t imagine ever being held in his father’s arms for that length of time. 

Cora babbled a stream of consonants with a sharp edge that hinted a whine in the near future. She squirmed restlessly against Mac. 

“Why don’t we go and see how Auntie Riley is doing with her big Internet search.” Jack said to Cora, tapping her gently on the chin. She held up her arms and leaned towards Jack who scooped her up out of Mac’s hands, tossed her into the air to make her shriek in glee, then bounced her in his arms as he headed to the War Room. 

Mac dragged his newly empty hands through his hair, scrubbing roughly at his scalp with his nails to try and wake himself up. 

“Are you coming, man?” Jack called from the War Room doorway. “The little lady is getting antsy.” 

“I’ll let you go,” James said. “I've authorised Director Webber to use whatever Phoenix resources she needs to find the baby’s family. We'll get her home. And I’m sure you’ll do a fine job of caring for her until we do.” 

“Yeah.” The word was empty of conviction. “Yes.” Mac said again with more vigour. 

“ “Don’t worry,” James said, “you’ll be fine. You can do this.” 

“Find Cora’s family or look after her until we do?” The responsibility he felt for the small child watching him from Jack’s arms pressed heavily onto Mac and his confidence felt thin and unsubstantial in comparison. 

“Both.” James patted Mac’s arm. “Both, of course.” 

  


Cora bounced up and down on the blanket Mac had lain on the War Room floor. The adults in the room were focused and alert and she picked up their mood, prattling with little insistent shouts and nosily rattling a set of teething rings. 

“You’re looking for her mom on Facebook, Ri?” 

“Not quite. I’ve coded a search to go through social media sights for pictures that feature something with the colour combinations of her blanket. You can’t search for baby’s faces through facial recognition, their features are too symmetrical to find a good match, so I figured I might be able to find a match for her blanket since it was bound to be in at least some of the pictures of her.” 

“Have you found any results?” Mac asked, watching the screen flicker as the programme ran though thousands of pieces of data at a speed too rapid to follow. 

“Nothing solid yet but we’re getting there.” 

“That’s smart, Ri.” Bozer said. “When we catch these bad guys I want to be there when they’re told that we tracked them down using a baby’s blankie.” 

Matty pressed a button on her tablet and moved a photo of two men to the front of the screen “More good news. We found pictures of these two men on the CCTV at the parking lot where you found Cora. Facial rec had been able to track them down to a hotel in the city. I want you two,” she pointed to Mac and Jack, “to bring them in for questioning. Let’s see how much they know, they might why our little friend was taken and what for.” 

“Okay, boss lady, were on it.” Jack slapped a hand against Mac’s shoulder. “Let’s go and introduce ourselves to some of the people who stole a baby away from her family. I have a couple of things I’d like to say to them.” 

“Right.” Mac’s gaze went down to Cora, who had stopped shaking her teething rings and was gumming one of the rubber circles. 

Bozer noticed the direction of Mac’s look. “Cora can stay here and help us in the lab.” he said, dropping down to sit crossed legged next to her. “What do you think? Do you want to come with us and fight crime with science?” Cora dropped her teething ring and braced her hands on Bozer’s leg with a look of determination on her face. She pushed up from her knees until she was up in a standing position, her feet firm on the floor and her weight balanced on her hands. “Hey look at you!” Bozer cried as he put a hand on her side to steady her. “I’ll take that as a yes, she’s up and ready to go. Bring on the science!” 

“Ah look at her, what a super star!” Jack called to the baby, who was grinning, thrilled with what she’d done and wanting everyone to tell her how clever she was, “she’s growing up so quickly. She’ll be taking bad guys down with sleeper holds by the end of the week.” 

Cora bobbled up and down up and down on her knees and burbled, telling Bozer a story in da’s and ga’s about what she’d done. She’s happy . Mac thought, watching her play. She’s in the headquarters of an international secret intelligence agency. There’s almost nowhere safer in the world. There had been that one time with Fake Doctor Zito, but that was an anomaly and they’re updated their security procedures since then. Cora would be fine, he told himself. She probably wouldn’t even notice he wasn’t there. 

“You coming?” Jack asked. 

“Absolutely.” Mac replied. 

“Do you want to get a coffee, because you look like you might need one?” 

Mac raised an eyebrow at him.

“What? I’m just being honest! Your eyes are all small and you look like,” Jack’s jaw fell open and he slumped forwards, his hands hanging heavily by his sides, and he moaned like a zombie, “like this.” 

“How about I let you know on the way.” Mac hauled the War Room door open. 

“Okay.” Jack said in clipped tones, holding up his hands as he walked past Mac. “I’m just trying to be helpful. That’s all. No need to get snippy.” 

“I’m not snippy.” 

“You’re Mr Snippy right now. You’re like Mr Snippy Snipperton of Snippytown, USA.” 

“I’m like who?” Mac squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hands. “What are you even talking about, man?” 

“See.” 

“See? See what?” Mac snapped. “I need caffeine to be able to deal with this conversation.” Lots of caffeine. All the caffeine. And maybe a pastry with crunchy, sugary stuff on the top. “Either that or mind altering drugs.” 

“Dude, I’ll think you’ll find those two are more or less the same thing.” 

“You're not actually wrong, caffeine is-”

“I don’t need the science, Starbuck.” Jack raised his voice to drown Mac out. “All I want to know is if we need to pick you up a cup of Joe to keep your baby blues open.” 

Mac opened his mouth to reply with a sarcastic comment and paused. He did feel a little…lethargic… and in the need of a little pick me up. “Yeah, that would be great actually.” He admitted sheepishly. 

“Okay, let’s go drink coffee and catch some bad guys.” 

The War Room door swung shut, leaving the sound of Cora’s giggles behind. 

  


The car they’d been given for the stakeout was one of the best ones the Phoenix had, Matty must be feeling generous. The seats were padded, the air con worked and it had yet to become imbued with the smell that all stakeout cars came to have: an aroma that was a combination of greasy takeaway food, corn chips and a stale, dry smell that Mac had decided was the scent of boredom. 

“So,” Jack said fixing Mac with a look that had Mac flinching away. “How’s life as a new foster father treating you? Has our little ducky got you on the ropes yet?” 

“I can’t lie about the crying at 2 o’clock in the morning sucking. I’ve gone without sleep before, but having a distressed child screaming in your arms is completely different from studying all night or keeping going for thirty two hours straight defusing bombs in a populated area.” 

Jack considered that statement, nodding his head from side to side as he thought. “Look, I know the crazy way that your brain works and I think I know what your problem is. You knew what you were doing in those situations.” Jack relaxed against the car door, settling into his subject. “You weren’t in control but you knew what you were doing. You had your training and your knowledge and experience to fall back on. Cora didn’t come with an instruction manual and it’s spinning your wheels. You need to relax man, there won’t be a test at the end of this, no one is grading you on a curve.” 

Mac fiddled with the takeaway cup in his hands, pressing little curves into the cardboard with his thumbnail to create the symbol for the chemical structure of oxytocin, the ‘love hormone’ associated with bonding and affection. It wasn’t just that he didn’t know how to care for Cora, Mac thought as a typical day in LA flowed outside the car - people shopping, going to work, heading home to see their families - it was like he’d told Cora that morning, he didn’t know if he had emotional skills. 

“They say you parent the way you were parented,” Mac said, “and my childhood is patchwork of different responsible adults. I don’t know if I learned all the right things, what if I missed out on something important? I won’t know until I do something wrong.” 

“There’s no lesson plan of parenting, Hoss. It’s not Pythagoras theorem, there isn’t just one way to do it right. All you have is the best you can do in any moment, same as every other parent. Besides, you’ve had people in your life who’ve loved you and you’ve loved them back, like your grandpa, Bozer’s family and our whole crazy Phoenix wolf pack, right?” Mac mixed a nod with a shrug of a tense shoulder. “Well then you know what you need to know. You care about doing right by Cora so you’ll do right by her. You can’t actually break her, she’s not made of glass and she won’t shatter if you’re not perfect. And don’t forget man, you’re not doing this on your own,” Jack pointed to himself with a forefinger, “there’ll be people beside your slow moving tuchus just the same as there was in the sandbox.” 

“I know, but, I can usually make something to solve a problem but I can’t whip something up out of a cardboard box and gummy bears to make thing right for Cora.” 

“You can’t think through this one, man, you have to feel it. Babies aren’t logical, they're little bundles of wiggly innocence that come with a side order of the craziest dictator you or I have ever met. They can’t be reasoned with, they can only be reacted to.” 

“Did you just quote Jurassic Park at me?” Mac said. 

Jack’s forehead creased in thought. “I may have done. See, it could be worse, not matter what happens our little feathered friend won’t break out of her playpen and start eating people alive.” 

“That is true.” Movement caught Mac’s eye and he focused his attention across the street with a straightened spine and a resolute lift to his jaw. “I think I’ve spotted our guys.” 

“Then let’s go say hi.” 

The extraction was easy. A short nonchalant stroll, a little stealth, a tiny bit of brute force, a couple of tightened zip ties and the two bad guys were on their way to the Phoenix. As Jack explained to Matty later, “We were highly motivated to meet the parameters of our mission in a timely and efficient manner.” 

“You wanted their no good, child snatching asses in our interrogation wing so we could find Cora’s family ASAP?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

  


Mac and Jack made their way to the lab once the Child Catchers were safely delivered to the arms of the Phoenix’s interrogation team. Bozer, Riley and Leanna were scowling at a monitor while Cora sat in the middle of a paddling pool surrounded by soft toys, balls, and board books. When Mac called a greeting she looked up from the plastic elephant she was biting and babbled joyously, her face lit with a gummy smile, and she shuffled towards him on her bottom. 

“Hello little bird, you like this then?” Mac asked, scooping up her up. “I hoped the paddling pool would act like a play pen.” 

“She loves it.” Bozer leaned around the computer monitor to give Mac a rueful look. “She loves throwing things out of it for us to get. I’ve spent most of this morning feeling like a golden retriever. And I notice that you left before the thing needed blowing up.” 

“Ah yeah.” Mac glanced down at the fully inflated plastic. “Sorry, I forgot about that.” 

“Can you sprain a lungs?” Bozer asked, clutching his ribs with both hands. “Because I feel like I've sprained my lungs.” 

“I don’t think that’s possible, but I promise I’ll blow it up next time. I could probably make a foot pump from some of the things lying around in here.” 

“Now he tells me.” Bozer muttered. 

“It sounds like you’ve all been having a great time in here while you've been doing Riley’s blankie hunt.” Jack stood behind Leanna and peered over her shoulder to look at the screen. “How’s that going by the way?” 

Riley lifted her hand from the keyboard and pushed herself back from the desk. “Good. I’ve made some adjustments to the programme to refine the search, we’re getting there.” 

The colours of the computer read out flashed red, green then blue on Jack’s face, reflecting in his eyes and casting stark shadows over his expression. 

Mac rested his cheek against Cora’s head to whisper into her ear. “Look Little Bird, Uncle Jack wants you to think that he understands the results he’s looking at. Act impressed, it’ll make him happy.” 

“If a big sign saying, ‘Cora’s parents are here!’ lights up the screen I’ll understand that.” Jack replied without taking his eyes off the monitor. “That’s all I need to see to get the job done. It’s like I keep telling you, Feathers,” he smoothed an errant curl from Cora’s eyes, “well get you home soon.” 

Cora’s was a slight, warm weight on Mac’s hip. Her little body slowly started to slump into him and he could feel her growing heavier in his arms

“Are you getting sleepy?” he craned his neck to see into Cora’s face. 

“She’s been yawning so we were thinking it might be time for her to have a nap.” Leanna said. 

“Why don’t we go for a tour of the building?” Mac looked down at the baby’s heavy eyes. “Maybe a nice walk will help you drift off to sleep.” He lifted Cora to rest her head on his shoulder and held her close. 

“Here.” Riley tucked Cora’s blanket in beside her. “The War Room is empty, it will be quiet in there.” 

“I’ll be back-” Mac looked down as the baby’s drooping eyes, “I have no idea when I’ll be back. Good luck with the search.” 

  


Mac touched the glass to engage the privacy screen of the War Room walls. The room was empty and still, and Cora was hovering just on the edge of sleep in his arm. Mac could hear her snuffed breaths as he walked slowly from the screen on the wall to the large window opposite it. Nursing a baby to sleep in a room where covert missions were planned and violent exchanges monitored seemed unconventional at best, but what was the Phoenix if not an organisation that sought to bring people peace and safety, Mac thought. Cora was just using it right then in a particularly literal sense. 

The baby’s breathing deepened into slow, heavy huffs against his neck and Mac eased himself carefully down into one of the chairs with her resting safely against him. He’d give it a few minutes until she was deeply asleep then he’d put her down somewhere, maybe in the paddling pool, if he moved the toys out and lined the bottom with several blankets it would be nice and cosy. Maybe he could set up one of the hydraulic arms to rock her, he thought as the baby’s soft breaths and warmth weight banished the effects of the coffee he’d had and he felt himself relax into the leather chair, maybe if he made some adjustments to the arm he could attach the car seat to it…

Lulled by the quiet room and the sleeping baby Mac drifted off to sleep. 

  


He blinked his eyes open to see Riley sat across from him typing into her laptop. “Hi there sleepy head.” 

Mac groaned, “Please tell me I didn’t snore.” 

“Don’t worry, no snoring and no drooling. Either of you.” 

Mac sat up gently so as to not wake the baby still sleeping in his arms and scrubbed at his eyes with a fist. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep too.” 

“Don’t worry, you both looked cute.” Riley said, her eye bright with a smile. “I might have taken a photo on my phone.” 

Mac groaned again. 

“Okay!” Riley hit a key with triumphant tap. “It’s good you’re awake, you’re going to want to see this. I’ve found her.” 

“Cora’s mom?” All Mac’s lingering sleepiness was washed away. “You’ve found her family?” 

“Yes.” Riley tapped a key and transferred the information from her laptop to the War Room’s screen. 

“Meet Mina Edwards. She a twenty nine year old clerical worker with one daughter, Cora Edwards. She’s engaged to be married to a David Michaels.” Riley tapped at some keys. “It looks like she’s lead an average life up until now, I can’t see any ties to organised crime or anything suspect at all, not even a parking ticket.” 

“But then one day her daughter is kidnapped by goons from a known criminal gang and would be god knows where now if Jack and I hadn’t found her?” 

Cora snuffled in her sleep, gave a soft little snort and snuggled closer to Mac. 

“What’s your story, little duck?” Mac asked running a finger down her soft cheek. 

Riley threw her hands up in triumph. “Look, here they are.” 

The smart board filed with a picture of a young woman holding a baby in her arm. Holding Cora in her arms. They were surrounded by trees and flowers and were both looking at the camera and smiling. Cora’s blanket was draped over her mom’s shoulder. 

“Okay, Mina,” Riley said to the screen of her laptop. “Where are you and what is going on?” Her fingers flew over her keyboard as she frowned in concentration. “Hang on-” she paused, frozen, then hit a key with more force that strictly necessary. “Mina has dropped off the grid. She hasn’t been to work, used her social media sites or her credit card for days and her phone has been switched off. She’s missing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the Elements Song by Tom Lehrer, which is a song that is list of all the elements that were known of when the song was written in 1959 sung to the tune of tune of the Major-General's Song from The Pirates of Penzance by Gilbert and Sullivan, and is a geeky masterpiece. I feel absolutely certain Mac would know it off by heart. From what I can find on Google it looks like sixteen new elements have been discovered since the song was written, I’ll bet that Mac knows all their names too.
> 
> (Incidentally, if you have a few free minutes, I’d recommend watching the clip of Daniel Radcliff singing the Elements Song on The Graham Norton Show because it’s adorable.)


	4. When are you gonna come down, when are you going to land?

The decking was cold under Mac’s feet. He considered getting a pair of socks to banish the chill but Cora’s cries were fading into sad little hiccups and if the open air and the night sky were what was settling her he willing to put up with frosty toes until she went back to sleep. She was wrapped in a blanket and Mac had pulled on old hoodie that was comfortable with age and familiarity. The hoodie was too big on his shoulders and Mac had a feeling it had actually might have started off as Jack’s. Cora’s cheek rested against the soft fabric with one had clinging to the chord hanging from the neck. 

“Shhhh, I know, Little Bird, I know.” The baby grizzled miserably, adding more fat tears to the damp patch on his shoulder. 

  


She’d still been asleep in Mac’s arms when the whole team had gathered in the War Room to look over the information Riley had discovered about her mom. Mina Edwards had left her house to go to work five days ago and instead of going into her office she driven to the train station, left her car in a long term parking lot, cleared out her bank account at an ATM, then walked into the station and vanished. 

“She called her fiancé, who’s on a business trip to Europe, bought a ticket to LA and disappeared.” Riley had said, putting the CCTV footage from the station on the big screen. The team watched as Cora’s mom walked away from the ticket office and into the bustling crowd of travellers heading to the platforms. 

“So where does she go next?” Matty asked. 

“I don’t know. I’m looking but I haven’t found any sign of her yet.” Riley replied. 

Bozer stepped towards the screen. “Do we even know if she got on the train to LA?” 

Riley squinted at her laptop. “I have a flash of someone who looks like her of her climbing on the LA bound train.” 

A split second video appeared on the screen showing a view from behind of Cora’s mom stepping onto a train in the midst of a group of tourists. “Did she get off here?” Mac asked. 

“I’m still waiting to confirm that.” Riley shook her head. “She’s smart, she’s paying with cash and moving in large crowds so she’s managed to say hidden.” 

“So, just to clarify,” Jack said, “We’ve found Cora’s mom, but we haven’t actually found Cora’s mom." 

“That about sums it up.” Mac looked down at the baby. She twitched and one of her hands curled into a fist. He suspected she was getting ready to wake up. When she did she’d open her eyes, look up at him, smiling, still soft with sleep and want to play. “What we need to know is why she left. If she came to LA to find Cora then who brought her here and how did her mom know where she was? And why would someone take Cora? Has Mina been sent a ransom demand, Riley?” 

“I haven’t found evidence of anything like that but she could have had a note pushed through her door, I can only check for contact that was made digitally.” Riley shrugged apologetically. 

“If there has been a ransom demand what does her mom have that someone would kidnap her baby to get?” 

“I’m looking into her life.” Riley said. “I’ll see what she has or knows that would make someone do this.” 

“That poor woman must be desperate.” Matty’s voice had been soft as she stared at the picture of Cora and her mother. “Nothing is worse than not knowing.” 

  
“You miss your mom don’t you?” Mac looked out at the lights of LA, swaying side to side to soothe the baby in his arms. “You’re having fun with us but you miss her. I know what that’s like, but we’ll find her. I promise. We’re doing everything we can.”

After two days of searching they still had no results. Riley’s programmes continued to trawl through hours of CCTV footage and Matty was using every resource she could think of. 

Mac and Cora had settled into a routine of feeding and naps and playtimes. Bozer had found a You Tube channel with music and images that were supposed to engage and focus baby’s cognitive development and Riley had changed her first diaper. 

She had delved into Cora’s mom’s life with a tenacity that made Mac wonder. He watched Riley, hunched over her laptop, scowling at the screen and the temerity of the information she wanted to not be there at her fingertips. She wasn’t used to being thwarted in her specialist field. Mac suspected she was motivated by more than just professional pride. He saw the need of an abandoned child in her determination to find Cora’s absent mother. He recognised that need because saw it when he looked in his bathroom mirror each morning. 

While she hadn’t found every answer, Riley had discovered some of the reasons behind Mina’s actions. Reasons that made everything much more complicated. 

Mac had laid out a blanket on the War Room floor and was sat on it with Cora next to him. He had filled an empty water bottle with paperclips and duct taped the lid back on and Cora was shaking it, pleased with the rattling sounds she was making. 

“So,” Riley was sat in a chair next to Mac typing into her laptop. “Cora’s mom leads a pretty conventional life. She goes to work, takes care of her daughter and sees her friends every other Sunday for brunch. She’s getting married in a few months time and weddings can be expensive but there’s no evidence of her having debts and she doesn’t have any dark secrets. I can’t find reason for her to be blackmailed and there are no hidden fortunes for her to pay a ransom with.” 

“But someone did kidnap her child,” Mac said as Cora whacked him on the knee with the bottle in her hand and giggled at the sound it made, then she did it again, “there must be something in her life worth doing that for.” 

“It took some lateral thinking, some guess work and a shot in the dark but I’ve found something, look.” Riley turned her laptop around so Mac could see the picture on the screen of a man who looked to be in his early 60s. He was dressed in a suit and his grey hair was combed back in a practical, business like style. “Here’s Michael Hill, Mina’s boss. He owns a smallish hauling business that employs a handful of people and is doing okay. Mr Hill isn’t dining out with the top 1% but he makes good money and should be able to retire in a few years time and play all the golf he wants. Nothing to see here, there’s no reason for him to take Cora, right?” 

“Right.” Mac, tired of having a plastic bottle bounce off his kneecap, started rocking the rattle so the paperclips slid from side to side. Cora watched the pieces of metal move, eyes wide with fascination, and launched herself forwards them, landing on her stomach across Mac’s legs. Mac lifted her up and sat her in his lap, holding the bottle for her to pat at with her hands. 

“Except, that guy’s digital backstory looked a little too neat, I know a false identity when I see one, so I did a bit of digging. Michael Hill didn’t exist until four years ago.” Riley tapped a key and the brought up a new photo, a mug shot of a different man with the same eyes staring out at them. “This is Myers Bell. He was the head of a criminal organisation who was living a mob boss’ dream life up until the police started to build a solid case against him and he vanished.” 

“And that happened four years ago?” 

“That happened four years ago. He left his old life, had some plastic surgery, and created a new life for himself as a legitimate business man.” 

“But then he get bored and kidnaps his office manager’s baby?” Cora pulled the bottle from Mac’s hands, stared down at it with her forehead furrowed in thought, then threw it so it bounced away and rolled under the table. “Are you done with that then?” Mac asked her. Cora leaned forward, pushing herself up on her hands until she was stood up in Mac’s lap on wobbling legs. Mac wrapped his hands around her in support. 

“Maybe she saw something.” Riley smiled and shook her head at the two of them as Mac helped the baby to walk up and along his chest then flop forward to plant an open mouth, slightly drool-y kiss to his cheek. “Maybe she found out something that she wasn’t supposed to know and Bell needed a way to guarantee her silence.” 

“That makes sense.” Mac lifted Cora up from where she’d draped herself over his head, letting out an ‘Ah’ of realisation when he patted her bottom. “Her diaper needs changing. Riley, your turn.” 

“You want me to do what?” She’d baulked, hands raised in a clear ‘nope’, when Mac had held the baby out to her. 

“It’s just wet, honestly.” 

“It’s still a used diaper. I don’t do diapers, Mac.” 

“Ahh come on Ri, this is a teachable moment.” Mac jiggled Cora so that she danced in his arms, repressing the urge to laugh at the disgust in Riley’s face. “It’s chance to expand your horizons and go outside your comfort zone.” 

“My horizons and comfort zones are fine the size and shape they are. Besides, I don’t know how to.” 

“I didn’t until a few days ago.” Mac paused and changed his tactic. “Okay then,” he sighed and hauled himself and Cora up from the floor. “If you are too much of a coward then I’ll do it, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be scared of a little thing like a diaper but…”

“No, wait.” Riley held up a finger. “Wait.” She pursed her lips, thinking. "Hand her over. I can do this. I’m not letting you call me a chicken, Angus MacGyver.” 

She drew the baby into her arms, smiling down at the big eyes gazing up at her. “I suppose this cutie is kind of my foster niece.” 

Mac threaded Cora’s diaper bag onto Riley’s shoulder. “Here you go then.” 

“Great.” Riley adjusted the strap. “I’ve got this.” She turned and headed out of the room, throwing out her arm out and pointed in Mac’s direction without turning her head to look back at him. “Don’t think I don’t know what you did there.” 

Since Riley’s back was turned Mac allowed himself a smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he called after her. 

  


Jack enjoyed having the baby around. More than enjoyed it. He loved it. He sang for her. Danced with her. Threw her in the air to squeals of delight from the baby and calls of ‘be careful!’ from everyone else, and had arrived at Mac’s house the second day she was there holding a Metallica onesie up like a trophy. 

“The search is over. Call off the dogs. It’s official, I have found the cutest piece of baby stuff in this world or any other.” He’d boasted, swaggering through the door with delight on his face. “Come on, feathers, let’s get you in this.” 

The onesie was all black with the Metallica logo written in crayon across the chest. 

“It’ll need to be washed before she wears it.” Mac had said, he didn’t want to dampen Jack’s enthusiasm but he needed to be practical. The last thing anyone needed was an itchy, unhappy Cora. When she was uncomfortable she made sure that everyone knew about it. At volume. 

“I washed it last night, what do you think I am, a barbarian?” 

Mac had just dressed Cora and didn’t want to have to wrestle her squirming little self out of her clothes to put her into the onesie but he solemnly swore that he would put Cora in the onesie the next day. 

He did. 

And she had looked cute. 

  


Cora was limp against Mac, her sleeping weight heavy and trusting. She was ready to go back to bed but Mac wasn’t. Not yet. Having a baby in his life, in his home, in his arms, had been unsettling. He wasn’t sure how anyone could ever decide to have children. He was humbled, thrilled and terrified that she had accepted him as someone she safe with. Having her, being the one she relied on, was like being blessed and cursed all at once. He had known her for less than a week and he constantly worried about her safety, her comfort, if she was hungry or too cold and if she was sick or sad or afraid. People chose to live like that for the rest of their lives. They chose to let a piece of their hearts walk through the world being vulnerable to things that couldn’t be controlled. Mac didn’t know how they did it. 

Then to have that child taken away. Or to leave it behind. 

They were things he couldn’t comprehend. 

  


Jack wasn’t the only one who seemed thrilled with having a baby in the family, even temporarily. James kept appearing beside Mac’s shoulder, a pleased smile on his face, offering advice and stories of when Mac was a baby. 

“Her cheek is a little pink, she might be teething.” He’d said that morning as Mac had been pacing the floor with a grumbling Cora. 

“There’s some gel in her bag.” 

“Good.” James had grinned. “You sound like you’re in control.” 

“I don’t know about that. Matty wants me to consult with Interpol but I can’t take Cora into a conference call when she’s like this and I don’t want to leave her with someone when she’s still upset.” 

“I’ll take her.” James had offered. “We’ll take a walk to the hydroponics lab. She might like looking at the flowers, you mom used to take you for a walk in the garden when you were grouchy.” He’d taken the baby from Mac and rocked her from side to side. “What do you think, little one, do you want to come with me to look out the Phoenix’s garden?” 

Cora stuck out her bottom lip, not sure about the change in the person who was holding her and uncertain that she was ready to stop being upset. The pet lip grew larger, threatening tears. 

“Maybe I should…” Mac started. 

“We’ll be fine. Go and consult with Matty, she’ll like it if we solve Interpol’s problem, they’ll owe us a favour.” James raised his eyebrows. “I have done this before you know.” 

“You’re sure?” Seeing the baby in his dad’s arms was like witnessing the collision of two disparate entities, like noticing stars in the sky at noon or witnessing a glacier burn. Watching his father holding Cora with practiced ease, talking to her in a soft soothing voice, acting like a dad, Mac had felt something swell in his chest. Something that felt like pain. 

“Of course.” 

They took the call in Matty’s office. Mac listened and made suggestions, Matty offered the support of a Phoenix agent currently working in Lisbon and the phone call ended with all parties satisfied with it’s outcome. 

“Go and find you’re little sidekick.” Matty said when she hung up the phone

“Are you sure?” Mac looked up from his watch to meet her eye, “If you need any more help I can…”

“Go, you’ve been twitching for the last five minutes.” 

“I will.” Mac jumped to his feet, calling, “Thanks, Matty!” over his shoulder as he left her office. 

A rush of warmth engulfed Mac as he stepped into the hydroponics lad. The air was heavy and sweet with the scent of blossom and the room was filled with an explosion of different coloured petals. He hadn’t been there since The Organisation had infiltrated the building, feeling guilty about the specimens that had been destroyed when he had blown away one of the walls. Being around the lab’s scientist was still felt awkward. James’s voice came from one corner and Mac walked through the rows of beds to find him. 

“This is a lily.” Mac heard. “Do you want to touch the petals? There, feel how soft they are.” Mac finally spotted James facing one of the flower beds with Cora sat comfortably on his hip. He had his back to Mac who could see his arm move as he held out a plant for the baby to explore. “Can you smell the pollen? It’s strong isn’t it? Lilies are poisonous to cats you know.” 

A memory came to Mac. The image arrived fully formed, a clear flash of recollection lit by sunlight and so vivid that Mac could hear the hum of the fridge and smell the garlic in the sauce bubbling on the hob. 

His father had been stood at the stove with his back to Mac cooking a meal and singing along with the radio. The Elton John song that was playing had drowned out Mac’s footsteps so James hadn’t heard his approach and Mac took a moment to watch his father while he didn’t know he was being observed. His hair was still dark, with grey hairs only just starting to show at his temples, and he had one eye on the pans bubbling on the hob as he chopped herbs with a confident hand. The purple and grey checked shirt he wore hung from his shoulders, the fabric loose rather than bunched up on tense muscles as Mac was growing used to seeing. 

“You can’t plant me in your penthouse, I’m going back to my plough,” James sang as he reached over to a saucepan, “back to the howling old owl in the wood, hunting the horny backed toads.” A cloud of steam carrying the smell of tomatoes and onions billowed upwards as he lifted the lid of a pan to scrape in the herbs and he stirred the sauce in time with the music, “Oh I've finally decided my future lies, beyond the yellow brick road.” 

Many of Mac’s memories of his dad were bittersweet. Of father and son time that had felt like tests and conversations where truths were displaced by anger. So many recollections were tinged with disappointment with what had happened or with frustration because of what could have been but never was. This freshly discovered memory was simple and unaffected, just showing his father content and relaxed in an unguarded moment. Knowing that there were times when his dad had been that way during Mac’s childhood was new and welcome. 

James finally heard Mac approaching him in the lab he turned to greet him. 

“Are you taking her?” The lines around James’ eyes had curved up with enjoyment as he rocked the baby from side to side, “Come on, sweetheart, Angus is here. I think it’s almost time for you to have some dinner,” he placed Cora in Mac’s arms, wrinkling his nose. “I think she might need changing.” 

“And you haven’t done that because…?”

“Grandpa’s privilege. We get to do the fun stuff without having to deal with the dirty diapers.” He handed Mac Cora’s bag. 

Mac pulled the strap onto his shoulder and adjusted it until the weight was comfortable. “Wait, what?” 

James winked. He patted Mac on the arm and left the room without replying, 

“Grandpa?” Mac had said into the silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John, which is also the song that James is singing in Mac’s memory. The original version of this song is by Elton John but the version really like is the cover by Sara Bareilles. 
> 
> You can really buy a onesie with the Metallica logo on in crayon, I found it when I was looking for pictures for my Little Bird mood board on Pinterest. It's completely adorable.


	5. When we all fall asleep, where do we go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve seen author’s notes on AO3 before when an writer has apologised for how long the chapter they’ve just posted is and I’ve never understood why they would feel the need to say that – why would they be sorry for giving me lots to read? I’m on the other side of that now and I get where those authors were coming from – this is a bit of a massive chapter. It just worked out that way. I could have divided it up but I couldn’t find anywhere to cut it. So, sorry!

Mac heard his mom call his name. 

She looked young, pretty and healthy, the way she did in old photographs. Mac’s favourite photo of his mom was one his grandfather had kept on a shelf in his dining room. It featured Mac, his mother and his grandfather and had been taken when Mac was about a year old. He was being held by his mom, who’s face was shining with laughter, and he was staring up at his grandfather with a delighted expression. Mac had asked Harry what he was doing when the picture was taken but his grandpa said he couldn’t remember doing anything special, he’d just done what anyone does when they’re with a baby: he’d been playing and talking nonsense just to make them smile. That was why the picture was one of Mac’s favourites, because it hadn’t been a special moment, it had been a normal, happy, family one. One that was unremarkable in its ordinariness. If the smiles in that photo were unexceptional it meant that they were commonplace. 

Mac’s breath caught and an ache curled like fist beneath his ribs. “Mom?” He pushed himself to sit up in his bed. 

She was in the doorway of his room, stood in shadows beside the shelves of trophies and experiments. “Angus? Angus, honey where are you?” Mac could see her eyes darting from side to side as one trembling hand fluttered at her throat. Her blonde hair was down over her shoulders and she had on the rings Mac’s father had given her, the ones she had worn before the treatment made her lose so much weight they slipped off her fingers. As she searched the room she looked in Mac’s direction, right at him, but her gaze passed through him. 

“Mom, I’m here.” Mac shoved the covers away, trying to catch her eye. She stepped tentatively forward and into the light of the room where Mac could see anxiety lining her face, her eyes huge and fearful. 

“Angus, it’s okay, I’m coming sweetheart," she called, her voice wavered at the edge of the words she was trying to keep bright and reassuring. 

“I’m here.” Mac stood, not understanding why she couldn’t see him, her fear unnerving him, “I’m right here.” 

“I’m coming, honey,” she stepped forwards again rocking her weight from foot to foot, like she wanted to run but had no idea which direction held safety. “Mommy’s coming for you. Everything will be all right.” 

Confusion rooted Mac to the spot. His mom was right there, _right there_ but was looking right through him. “It’s okay, mom, I’m here.” 

“Angus?” His mom called, frantically searching the room but looking past Mac again and again. “Angus I-” she buckled forward with a sob then pulled herself upright, clawing her fingers into her hair as she fought to steady herself. “I’m coming baby, I’ll find you.” 

“Mom! I’m here!” 

“I’m on my way, I’ll be right there." She was shaking, her chest rising and falling sharply with panicked breaths "Mommy’s coming, don’t be scared.” 

“Everything will be all right, mom, I’ll think of something,” Mac promised, seeing her fear was worse than feeling his own, “don’t worry.” 

His mom stumbled, tears filling her eyes as the worry in her face slowly started to shift into terror. “Angus!” Her voice cracked and she reached out and her hands flattened as if there she was pushing at an invisible wall in front of her. “Angus!” She banged on the obstruction with her palms shouting Mac’s name then pushed and clawed at it the barrier, looking around her wildly, desperate to find a way past. “Angus! I’m coming for you. I’ll be right there, don’t be scared.” 

“Mom I’m here. I’m right here, it’s okay.” Mac surged forwards to reach his mother but the glass wall blocking his mom’s path held him away. He banged on the divide with his fist. “Mom, it’s okay.” He hammered his hands against the wall again but it was as solid as stone and didn’t buckle under the blows. 

His mom stared straight through him as he called to her. Mac looked in her eyes, eyes that were the same shade of blue as his, and saw the moment that the composure she been clinging to shattered. She yelled in frustration and pounded on the wall, fighting the barrier keeping her from her son. She shouted Mac’s name again and the word became a scream. 

Mac recognised the look on her face. He’d seen it in Afghanistan, in a market square after a bomb blast. He and Jack had been heading there to defuse the device but they hadn’t made it in time, arriving just after it had detonated in the stunned silence before the cries for help began. As they’d been racing toward the collapsed building they’d heard a scream. A sound so raw and terrible it cut though everything else in the smoke filled street. Mac had turned to see a woman running toward the rubble and her screams - Mac didn’t know what language she had been shouting in, he wasn’t sure that it was a language at all - but he knew from their sound that her children had been in the ruined building. Her face had been a mask of fear and horror, expressing a grief that was so primal and devastating that had been painful to witness. 

It was the same expression Mac mom was wearing. 

She collapsed to the ground, still pounding on the wall, her bloodied knuckles leaving red streaks on the glass. “Angus!” She screamed. “I’m coming for you, baby. Angus!” 

“Mom please!” Mac dropped to his knees beside her, choking on sobs. “I’m here.” He pummelled at the barrier dividing them. “Please don’t cry. I’m here, please, I’m here.” 

He woke kneeling on the floor in the middle of his room, his hands raised as if in prayer or defence. The room was dark and silent except for the little breathy huffs of Cora’s snores. When he’d finally put her back in her cot he’d climbed into bed and had finally slept but without finding the rest he was hoping for. Mac was trembling, shaking like he was exposed to an artic wind, his breaths thick and painful with sobs. He could still hear the echoes of his mom’s screams and the desperation of being unable to reach her burned inside him. He’d had nightmares of losing her after she’d died but they’d never been anything like the dream he’d just experienced. In the dreams he’d had when he was young he’d searched his empty house for her but had never been able to find her, she was always in a room he couldn’t get to or behind a door he couldn’t unlock. A child’s dream of loneliness and abandonment. His adult nightmare of separation and helplessness stung with layers of his own pain and with empathy for his mom’s torment. 

Time passed interminably in the dark until he felt steady enough to climb back into bed. After he wrapped his covers around himself for warmth he peered over at Cora who was fast sleep in her cot, her lips slightly open and her hands curled into loose fists beside her head. 

Mac turned his bedside light on and sat in its orange glow. It was a long time before his shaking stopped. 

  


Mac threw an arm over his eyes to block out the daylight and hoped that if he stayed very, very still the morning would go on without him. His bed was comfortable, the duvet was warm and his head felt full of wet cement. Cora was singing to herself, cooing, babbling and giggling in her cot beside Mac as if she were thinking aloud, commenting on the dreams she’d had and considering her plans for the day to come. Mac indulged in the soft, sweet moment. He would have to get up soon and be responsible and proactive, a foster father and a Phoenix agent. But for a few quiet moments he could rest and enjoy the comfort of his bed and the happiness of the tiny girl beside him. 

The goos and daas grew louder and more insistent and Mac rolled over to see that Cora had pulled herself up to standing on the side of the cot. She shrieked in delight and flapped her hands when she saw Mac looking at her, promptly falling back to land with a thump on her padded backside, looking nonplussed at no longer being upright. 

“All right, little bird, I’m awake.” 

Cora gazed up at Mac like he had hung the moon and lifted her arms to be picked up. She settled into his arms when he held her, kicking her feet and continuing her chattering, fixing Mac with a look that suggested that she was telling him something important that he ought to listen to. Mac rested his cheek against her head and wondered about Cora’s mother, where she was that morning, if she was awake, if she had lain awake all night worrying about her baby. ‘I’m coming for you. Everything will be all right’ his mom had promised in his dream. Mac wondered if Cora’s mom had whispered the same thing into the dark. 

They left Mac’s room to a concerned look from Bozer who wordlessly took Cora from Mac’s arms and fed her breakfast. Then there was a clean diaper, a sock that refused to stay on a wriggly little foot, a large cup of coffee and Mac standing under the hot spray of a shower trying to rouse his internal workings into something near their usual functional levels. 

  


“Are you okay, man?” 

“What?” 

“You.” Jack pointed at Mac. “Okay. Are you?” 

“Oh, umm, yeah. Thanks for asking, Yoda. I’ve been worse.” Mac reached over the brush a lock of hair from Cora’s eyes. She was in her paddling pool play pen in the lab, lying on her back and reaching up to grip her toes with Mac sat on the cold floor beside her. The chill was beginning to numb the feeling in his backside but the discomfort was helping him stay awake. 

“When?” Jack dropped down to crouch next to Cora, tickling her tummy and making her giggle. “Has it been recently? Because I can’t remember the last time I saw you looking this dog rough, man.” 

“When I was exposed to nerve gas. Getting shot was no picnic either.” 

“So, how you felt after a brush with chemical warfare and with the regular guns and ammo kind of warfare are the only times you can remember feeling worse than how you feel now? I can tell, you look-”

“Please don’t say the thing about being put away wet again, I don’t think I can take it.” Mac’s eyes felt gritty, he rubbed at them with a clumsy hand. He felt gritty all over, rough, uncomfortable and ill at ease. 

“I was going to say that you look like you’ve been wrestling demons. Was it a dark night of the soul or a long night with an angry baby?” 

“A little from column one.” Mac answered. “A little from column two.” 

“Sounds like fun. You should have called.” Jack dropped backwards to sit on the floor, legs stretched out with his weight supported on his arms. He titled his head and looked at Mac in a way that clearly stated, ‘And?’ 

Cora rolled over on to her stomach and patted at the sensory toy Mac had made from her out of a plastic document wallet, a handful of paperclips, a tube of shower gel and a long piece of sellotape. She squashed the toy under her hands, following the paperclips as they moved in the bright green gel. Mac watched her chattering happily as she explored the movable gloop, rocking backwards and forwards on her hands and knees. Mac wondered how long it would be before she could crawl. She had age appropriate physical and cognitive skills, Mac had checked, and as he watched her play he tried to imagine what it would be like to have her for long enough to see her grow and develop, and how much her family miss in that time. 

“I’m still here bro, ignoring me isn’t going to make me go away you should know that by now.” 

“I’m not ignoring you, Jack, I’m just thinking. And watching the baby.” 

“Well she is too cute to ignore, I’ll give you that.” Jack picked Cora up and sat her on one of his legs. “Have you been causing a wild rumpus and keeping good folk up all night?” he asked her. 

Cora burbled at him. 

“Just because you’re cute doesn’t mean that stuff like that is okay. Manners make a man you know, or a baby, in your case.” 

Mac’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he heard Jack’s chime at the same time. They exchanged glances. 

“It’s from Matty,” Mac squinted at the text. “She wants us in the War Room ASAP.” 

Jack picked Cora up and rested her against his shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got a meeting with the big boss.” He sauntered out of the lab chatting to Cora as he strolled through the corridors with Mac following in their wake. 

“So,” Jack said to the baby, “Miss Manners, I’ve got an etiquette question for you. How should one act when one meets up with the director of the Phoenix Foundation?” Jack paused to peer inquiringly into Cora’s face. She blew a raspberry at him. “Don’t know? I’ll tell you. She can be driven back with holy water, silver and crosses, she can’t come into your house unless you invite her in and sunlight kills her. Wait!” he drew to a halt and tapped a finger against his lips thoughtfully. “Hang on, I think that’s Dracula. It’s so easy to get the two of them mixed up. The most important difference between them is that Matty is way scarier.” 

“She can probably hear you.” Mac said, shaking his head, ridiculously grateful for the levity Jack always managed to bring. Fatigue weighed heavily on Mac and the easy silliness that Jack was capable of felt like a reprieve that buoyed him up. Mac was physically tired but more than that, he felt emotionally raw. The past week with Cora, with everything that involved in having her in his life, had opened up parts of himself that had never seen daylight before. Questions, memories and places in his heart that had been locked away had been bared, and having them freshly exposed to the sun left him feeling vulnerable. 

“You’re probably right.” Jack raised his voice a little and looked around as if he were searching for hidden cameras. “Matty Webber is a great boss and an even better human being.” He turned to Mac. “Do you think that worked, will that stop her being mad?” he said in a stage whisper. 

“Definitely. You nailed it.” 

When they turned the corner and the War Room came into view Matty was glaring through the glass. 

“That’s it, dude. I’m putting a circle of garlic bulbs around my bed tonight. If I die in suspicious circumstances in the next few days I want you to promise put a stake through my heart to stop me roaming the Earth for eternity as one of the Army of the Undead.” 

Mac put his hand on his heart. “I promise. I’ll put a steak through your chest and chop you head off.” 

“You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic about it, Van Helsing.” 

“I’m just trying to be a good friend.” 

“Are you two coming?” Matty opened the War Room door to call, “I’d like to start this meeting started before Cora’s 18th birthday party.” 

“We’re on our way, Boss Lady, don’t get your coffin in a twist.” Jack replied as he and Mac jogged the final few steps into the War Room. 

“Good.” Matty closed the door behind her and activated the privacy screen on the War Room windows. “Now that we’re all here I have news. We’ve found Cora’s mom.” 

“Have we actually found her, or is it like last time and we’ve found her but we haven’t _found_ her found her because haven’t actually found where actually she is?” Jack asked. 

“Only you could ask for clarification in such an unclear way, Dalton.” Matty said, “We’ve actually found her. We know where she is right now.” 

Matty was talking, putting pictures up on the display and explaining how Riley had managed to track Cora’s mom down by pulling a reflection on a car window caught from the camera of an ATM (an impressive feat, Mac was going to have to remember to congratulate her later and ask her to show him how she did it) but Mac found he couldn’t take his gaze away from Cora. She was wiggling in Jacks arms, clearing picking up on the enthused energy of the people in the room and waved and flexed her hands at Mac, gurgling her thoughts for his approval. 

“Here man, she wants to go to you.” Jack handed the baby over to Mac who shrieked playfully at him, settled in his arms then wiped her face on his sleeve. 

“We’ve found you mom, little bird.” Mac told her, holding out a finger for her to hold. “You’re going to go home.” 

Matty was talking about the motel Mina had been staying in, how they’d checked the cameras in the areas for visits from the bad guys they’d just released to the police department but had so far found none, and Mac listened with half an ear while the rest of his attention focused on the reactions he was having to the news that Matty had just delivered. 

They’d found Cora’s mom. They would be able to give her daughter back to her after days of what must have been tortuous worry. That was wonderful. It was amazing. They could reunite a family, his job didn’t get any better than that. But…

But. 

The cot in Mac room would be taken down. The baby paraphernalia that littered every surface of his house would be gone. Something about the loss of the baby powdered scented, duckling covered detritus from his home put a hollow sensation in Mac’s chest. 

“So, Blondie, are you ready to go?” Matty’s eyebrows were raised and her hands planted on her hips. 

“Yes. I’m ready Matty. I’ll just-” Mac hesitated, looking down at the child perched on his hip. 

“Here.” Riley held out her arms. “I’ll get her, we can spend a little quality girl time while you’re gone. Come here, ducky,” she took Cora from Mac and jiggled her from side to side, “let’s do each other’s hair and talk about how boys suck.” 

Jack clapped a hand on Mac’s arm. “Come on, while they’re doing that why don’t we do and find Mommy Dearest?” 

  


“Are you okay, man?” Jack pulled the keys out of the car’s ignition, spun them round on his finger and fixed Mac with a perceptive glare. 

“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that today.” Mac checked the motel’s car park for suspicious characters, blind spots and to avoid Jack’s eyes. 

“That is true. It’s also irrelevant. You didn’t look okay then and you still don’t look okay but I think it’s for different reasons. Don’t tell me it’s nothing, hombre.” He held up a hand to silence Mac as he drew breath to respond. “Our little bird is going to fly away home soon and don’t even bother saying you aren’t having feelings about that.” 

“I’m-”

“Of course you’re having feelings about that.” Jack interrupted with a decisive nod. “Mixed feelings and lots of them. You’ll be happy that you’ll get to sleep a full night through without interruption, you’ll be relieved that the responsibility of a tiny, innocent soul has been lifted from your shoulders.” Jack counted the points he was making on the fingers of the hand he had used to hush Mac, “You’ll be thrilled at never having to sing any songs about monkeys jumping on the bed or rowing a boat again cause I know I will be but, and this is a big but,” he wriggle his eyebrows at Mac with a childish glint in his eye, “but our ducking is leaving the roost. Do ducks roost?” 

“I don’t believe they do.” Jack was in full flow and Mac leaned many years ago that it was best to let the tide of his wisdom surge until it had run it’s course. 

“Well, she’s flying off or paddling away or something. My point is, she’s going to be leaving us. Leaving you. You’ve become attached to her, we all have, and goodbyes are about as much fun as singing The Wheels on the Bus forty seven times in the middle of the night.” 

“I-”

“Also,” Jack held up his hand again, “it’s not like this is over. We haven’t caught all the guys who took her, there is still a real threat to her and her mom out there. We still need to keep them safe and find a way to end this.” 

Jack fell silent. 

“Are you done?” Mac asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Can I speak now?” 

“Yes. The floor is yours.” 

“Thank you. You are right about all of those things. I am pleased she’s going to be with her mom. I won’t miss being responsible for a caring for a child when I feel like have no idea what I’m doing. I won’t miss that song about the sharks. I will miss her. Does that cover everything you want to know?” 

“Brother,” Jack turned his body in his seat to face Mac and looked at him with so much kindness in his eyes that Mac felt the burn of a lump forming in his throat. “You’ve been caring for a baby who lost her mother and now you’ve come to collect that lost mom and return her to her grieving child. So I’m going to ask a third time, are you okay?” 

Mac had once read an analogy for loss suggesting that grieving was like carrying inside you a box with a button marked ‘pain’ on one of it’s sides. Inside the box is a ball that rolls around and sometimes presses against the pain button, making you to feel the anguish of grief and sorrow as it does. When you first suffer a loss the ball is huge, taking up most of the room in the box and bumping into the pain button with crippling regularity, but as time passes the ball shrinks with the likelihood of it causing pain falling. But no matter how much time passes the pain button can still be triggered by the moving ball and the hurt it causes when it does is just as heart-breaking as when it the loss was fresh. Mac could talk about his mom without becoming emotional, he could watch movies where characters lost parents without empathising too much (although Guardians of the Galaxy 2 had given him a moment of pause) but sometimes something would happen, he’d see a mother lovingly stroke a hand through her child’s hair or smell notes of vanilla in a passing woman’s perfume, and he was back as a five year old boy who’s mommy couldn’t take him trick or treating. He stared across the parking lot at the door to Cora’s mom’s room, feeling grief and loss and a spike of envy that shamed him. 

“I-”

“You don’t have to answer me right now. Come on.” Jack shoved Mac playfully, “Let’s get this done.” 

The motel looked the way motels almost always looked, Mac thought. It was like someone had built a motel in the 70’s and that building had been used as a prototype ever since, and it was as if the original construction had been photocopied over and over again until it’s definition and details faded into a featureless ghost of the first design. The colours of the motel they were walking towards were dull, its curtains coffee-stain brown, the paint on the doors a fading orange and the numbers on the doors might have been silver once but had aged into a dirty copper held in place by screws that were more rust than anything else. 

“Well,” Jack said as he knocked on Cora’s mom’s door, “Norman Bates and his mom sure do keep this place nice.” 

“Hello?” The door opened with its chain fastened to reveal a woman with tension in every line of her body. Mac could see echoes of Cora in her face, although Mac had never seen such wariness in Cora’s expression. She quickly assessed them both at a glance and straightened her spine and Mac saw Cora clearly in her then, there in the determined tension in her mother’s jaw. “I don’t need to hear the glorious word of your God, I don’t want any lottery tickets and I’m not interested in signing up to make monthly donations to a charity.” She pushed the door and Mac caught it with an outstretched hand before it could shut. 

“We’re from a government agency,” he said quickly. “We have Cora.” 

“What?” Cora’s mom trembled, tiny shakes she wrapped her arms around herself to contain. “What did you say?” 

“She’s safe, Mina.” Jack’s voice was low as he coaxed her to trust them. “We’ve been taking care of her.” 

Mina took a step away from the door shaking her head. “That’s not what they told me, they sent me a video and told me to wait for them to contact me. You need to leave, I don’t know who you are but I can’t let them see me talking to you.” 

The door slammed in their faces. 

“

Mina!” Jack banged his fist on the door. “You can trust us, your daughter is safe with us.” 

“Please leave!” A desperate voice answered. 

“She likes eggs for breakfast,” Mac leaned his shoulder against the wall and spoke softly so that his voice would only just carry into the motel room. “She likes fruit too but you have to feed bananas to her because she doesn’t like their texture and won’t touch them. It’s almost impossible to keep both of her socks on, she always kicks one off.” Mac paused and heard the Cora’s mom hitched breathing behind the door. “She likes being sung to, playing peek-a-boo and for you to sway her from side to side when she’s tired. Her blanket has daisies on and she likes to sleep with it next to her, and no matter what you do she will manage to work her arms out from under her covers. She’s stubborn and funny and she has the cutest giggle I’ve ever heard.” 

There was a rattle as the chain was removed. Mac and Jack exchanged a hopeful glance and the door opened. Tears fell over Mina’s lashes and ran down her cheeks and she impatiently dashed them away. 

“Take me to her.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song Bury a Friend by Billie Eilish.
> 
> I first saw the analogy about grief being like a box with a ball inside on Tumblr but from what I can see the original post about it is here:  
> https://twitter.com/laurenherschel/status/946888282444460033, on a lady called Lauren Herschel’s Twitter page where she talks about how her doctor described the experience of grieving; she’s used a couple of pictures to help her explanation and it’s really well done. I thought it was a lovely, simple way to express what loss feels like. (I've had to put the address in because I tried to add a link but had trouble making it work) 
> 
> I'm away for the next few days so the next update will probably be posted in about a week.
> 
> xxx


	6. Simple and plain and not much to ask of somebody

The first floor of the Phoenix headquarters was silent. Everyone knew what was unfolding before them and fell into a hush to respect the moment a mother was reunited with her missing child. Mac saw his colleagues still as the sound of Mina’s cry echoed through the corridor. She dropped her bag, shouting her daughter’s name, and ran to the doorway of the War Room where Bozer stood holding Cora. Pride and affection for his colleagues filled Mac, they were good people, caring people who knew the family’s story and wanted to honour their reunion, not detract from it with chatter and distractions. 

Mina pulled her baby to her, pressing kisses on her face and hair as tears rolled down cheeks. Bozer gently led her into the War Room with a hand on her elbow and once inside she sank to the floor to rock Cora in her arms. Cora squawked in protest at the tight hold her mother had on her then babbled in high pitched delight. Mac found himself looking down at his feet, blinking at the heat behind his eyes, suddenly uncomfortable at witnessing such a personal moment and such raw emotions. 

Matty stepped out of the War Room with Bozer behind her, tapping the glass to hide Cora and her mother from view. “Let’s give them some privacy.” 

She led the way to her office, telling Mac and Jack to follow her with a look. Mac wiped his tears with his sleeve then lifting his lowered head, clearing his throat and pushing his hands through his hair before he could look over and meet Jack’s gaze. When he did he saw lines of tears tracing down Jack’s cheeks, his eyes red and sympathetic. 

More often than not Mac and his team didn’t get to see the people they’d helped. When a mission ended the people working in the blast radius of a failed bomb or eating lunch at the venue a terrorist cell had planned to attack carried on their days with no idea they had been saved, and without the Phoenix agents ever laying eyes on anyone who was safe because of them. To watch the results of the team’s hard work was a privilege, a gut wrenching one that Mac was grateful for in spite of the tears it brought. 

“Come on, man.” Jack nudged Mac with his shoulder. “Let’s go and see what the boss lady has to say.” 

  


Mac dropped into one of the leather chairs in Matty’s office with a barley suppressed groan. The fatigue hounding him since the beginning of the day had been banished by adrenaline when he’d learned Cora’s mother had been found. Now that Mina was safely reunited with her daughter and the rush of the mission was gone weariness was starting to creep back over him. 

His anxiety over keeping Cora safe, the responsibility of her comfort and care that had been present in Mac’s mind ever since she’d crashed into his life was gone. Mac felt like he had been pushing a heavy boulder, like Sisyphus, the man cursed by Hades to push a rock uphill for eternity in the Greek myths he’d read as a child. The loss of weight he’d been driving forward was a relief but one that left him feeling unsteady, as if it had acted as a counterbalance keeping him stable and now it was gone he felt exposed and unsupported. Mac lowered his hand out of sight of the others clenching and releasing his fist to release some of the nervous tension coiled in his limbs. 

Matty nodded to acknowledge Riley as she walked into the office, pushing the door closed and dropping into a chair across from Mac. 

“Good job.” Matty smiled at her team, her eyes bright, “Your work brought a family back together. There’s nothing more rewarding that that and I’m proud of all of you.” 

Mac smiled at his team, twitching his foot to tap his shoe against Riley’s boot. The work she had done to find Mina had been intense and extraordinary, he hoped that Matty recognised her dedication. Riley smiled back with a tip of her head that said, ‘you too’. 

“But,” Matty continued, “This isn’t the end of the mission. It’s only the end of the beginning. We still we need to find out what Mina knows or has that’s made Myers Bell so worried, and need to find him and bring him down so he can’t hurt her or anyone else again.” 

“And we need to get Mina and Cora somewhere safe until that’s all done.” Jack added. “So we’re moving the mom and the munchkin to a safe house? Tucking them away nice and quiet like until this whole mess is over?” 

“I have cover identities set up and ready for them to use.” Riley said. “It won’t be hard to hide them away.” 

The Phoenix had safe houses scattered throughout the country, Mac knew. He thought through them, wondering which one would be best. He’d prefer somewhere out of state, somewhere quiet and pretty, where Cora could sit outside and feel the sun on her face. 

“We are going to put them in a safe house.” Matty said. “Oversight and I have discussed this and one of the options that’s been suggested is to move them but allow chatter about their transfer to leak out to first to see if we can draw out the people looking for them.” 

Alarm, sharp and burning, seared its way into Mac’s gut. He sat up in his chair. “We’re using them as bait?” 

Matty turned to face Mac. “It’s an option we’ve discussed. Bringing down Bell is a priority and we need to consider all the options available to us to achieve that goal.” 

“After what you’ve just seen in the War Room you can’t seriously be considering doing that?” Mac said. 

“You were there,” Bozer added, “You saw what we all saw. I don’t know if we can ask Cora’s mom to put her baby at risk. She might do it because she feels like she owes us and that’s not right.” 

“I’m not talking about dumping the two of them at the bus station and expecting them to take care of themselves.” Matty insisted. “We would be careful, there would be agents with them at all times, the risks would be minute.” 

“A small risk is still too much, Matty. We can’t do it.” Mac said, adamant. 

“You might not be the best person to make that call Mac, you’re emotionally involved with Cora, we all are. And at this point it’s not definite that we’re going to go with that idea, it’s just a possible plan that has been discussed.” 

“Emotionally involved!” Mac found he had raised his voice. Then found he didn’t care that he was on the verge of shouting. He’d played with Cora, made her laugh, watched her sleep, held her when she’d cried, loved her and he was being asked to put her at risk. “We are not using them as bait. That is not happening.” Mac’s voice was flat and as sharp as flint as the fatigue in his bones was replaced by anger, pure and absolute. “We are not risking the safety of a baby and her traumatised mother to lure out a target. We’re supposed to be protecting them, not using them as chum in shark infested waters.” 

“No one is going to put them in danger, Mac. And that plan isn’t definitely happening, it’s a option that’s been proposed, Oversight suggested that…”

“He suggested?” Mac spat the words with disgust. “My dad _suggested_ using an innocent baby to-” He surged to his feet, too appalled to finish his sentence, and marched towards the door of Matty’s office. 

“Mac!” Matty shouted after him, her voice cut off abruptly as the door slammed shut behind him. 

Oversight’s office was just around a non-descript corner, hidden in plain sight beside a watercooler and an electric terminal. The reminder that his father had been working so close to him for years without ever reaching out to him sent a fresh spike of anger through Mac, quickening his heart and stoking the fury coursing under his skin till it was like magma in his chest. He shoved the door in front of him open with shaking hands. 

“After everything they’ve been though!” he yelled as he burst in, his dad rising from his seat behind the desk with shock at the sudden invasion. “You’re just going to use them like a tool? They’re not something for you to use for your own means and discard, they’re people, a family!” 

“I take it Matty has mentioned the possibility of using our guests to draw out Bell.” James moved out from behind his desk, his face blank. 

“Cora is six months old. How can you consider putting a baby in danger? I don’t care what you think the greater good is. Nothing is worth that kind of risk.” Shouting at his father was cathartic, releasing all the hurt and anger he’d failed to compartmentalise away for the past week. 

“It was one idea that was mooted as a way of possibly handling the situation. One idea.” James tapped one hand on his desk to emphasis his point, the staccato gesture betraying the fraying edge of his emotional control. “They would never be placed directly in danger and I haven’t-”

“They wouldn’t be completely safe and anything other than that is, it’s…” Mac gave a bitter, humourless laugh, “if you don’t get why risking Cora and her mom is unacceptable, if you don’t know why it’s not okay to put a baby at risk then,” he raised his hands then let them fall to his sides in resignation, “there’s nothing I can say to you to make you understand why your plan is wrong.” 

“I was simply…”

“I thought, I had really started to believe that you’d changed.” Mac’s jaw tensed as he forced his words out, voicing them hurt, cutting into the part of him that was still a small boy who missed his daddy. “That there was more to you than the emotionally absent, closed off automaton that I vaguely remember from my childhood but I was wrong. You don’t care, not about people, you don’t care about anyone.” 

“Angus.” James raised his hands in entreaty, Mac ignored him. 

“You’ve held Cora, you’ve looked into her eyes. How can you do that and call yourself ‘grandpa’ one minute and throw her to the wolves the next? I won’t put her in danger.” Mac stepped towards his father with clenched fists, he’d lost control but was too tired and hurt and angry to care. His father was still, the quick rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was affected by Mac’s words. “You know who could call her grandpa? Bozer’s dad. If anyone gets to call themselves her grandfather while she’s been with me it would be him. Bozer’s parents have always been there for me. They were there on Christmas mornings, when I was ill, they came to my high school graduation and they wrote to me when I was in Afghanistan. Bozer’s parents made me feel like I mattered. That’s what family is, it’s not biology it’s feeling like you’re welcome and you belong and that you _matter_ to someone. You’ve never done that for me.” Mac stumbled back, suddenly drained. “And apparently Cora and her mom don’t matter to you either. But they do to me. I won’t risk their safety. And if this is the kind of strategy that the Phoenix is willing to use then you’ll have to find yourself another agent because I can’t be part of it.” 

Turning his back to his father, driven by hurt and defeat and shaken by tiny shivers left by the vulnerability of exposing his emotions to his dad, Mac walked out of the office and away. 

  


Jack heard raised voices, or, to be more accurate, _a_ raised voice. Mac’s voice. He knew where Mac was going when he stormed out of Matty’s office and had a fleeting thought about stopping him barging in on his father and making his feelings known but dismissed the idea. Mac needed to have his say and it would be better for him to vent his anger now rather than holding on to it and letting it chafe. Jack knew that if he didn’t let out his turmoil Mac would hold it inside where it would fester, like dirt in an open wound. Jack heard a door slam - the confrontation had been shorter then Jack had expected - and he stood. 

“I’m going to go and see what’s what, if you know what I mean.” He nodded at the door, motioning to the fight that had just happened and his partner’s state of mind. 

“Well take care of things here.” Riley said with a sympathetic half smile. 

“Tell him to rest.” Bozer added. “Cora kept him up half the night last night and he doesn’t look like he got any sleep in the other half.” 

“Will do, Boze.” Jack said as he pulled open the office door. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” 

Jack hesitated for a moment in the corridor, trying to figure out where Mac would have bolted to. As much as Mac found comfort in the rationality of science Jack didn’t think he’d have chosen to go to the lab, there was little chance he would be alone there. At times like this, when Mac was feeling overwhelmed, he sought the open air, sometimes on the deck of his home and sometimes he would run all the way to a different continent in his search for space to breathe. 

“Going up.” Jack said to himself as he headed to the elevator. 

  


The edges of the white clouds drifting through the LA sky above Jack shone like gold in the sunlight. Jack made sure to shuffle his feet as he walked to alert Mac to his approach, the last thing either of them needed was for him to startle Mac into a defensive attack that left them both flat on the floor of the Phoenix building’s roof. 

“I thought you were scared of heights?” 

Mac was sat, his legs stretched out in front of him and his back resting against an air conditioning unit, staring out ahead of him. 

“Heights are only scary when you can see the drop below you. I can’t see the ground from here.” 

“That’s logical, bro, but it kinda makes no sense all at the same time.” 

Mac blew out a breath. “Today’s been like that.” He looked up and over at Jack. “Are you going to ask me if I’m okay? That’ll make it what, the fourth time today you’ve said that to me?” 

Jack sat beside Mac with a grunt. “I’m thinking of going for a world record or something. I think if we ever have a day where I have to ask you how you are more than twenty times you should buy me a bottle of champagne.” 

“Since when do you drink champagne?” 

“I have eclectic tastes and I’ll thank you not to cast doubts on my cosmopolitan nature.” 

Mac threw up a hand in silent apology. 

“I’ve been known to knock back bubbly in my time.” Jack continued. “There was this one time and a second cousin’s wedding when me and my sister worked our way through a bunch of bottles between the two of us. We had fun that night.” Jack nodded and smiled at the memory. “I can’t actually remember the second half of the evening but I’m sure it was fun and totally worth the dry cleaning bill.” 

Mac laughed, then his face dropped as he sobered. Jack could see him struggling to work himself up to speak. 

“Riley said not to worry, that they’d take care of Cora and her mom and Bozer said to get some sleep because you look like crap.” Jack said.

Mac blinked at him. 

“Well, he was more diplomatic than that but since there’s just you and me and some fluffy white clouds up here I don’t feel the need to sugar coat anything.” 

“They don’t need me to…?”

“What we all need you to do right now is to sit here and enjoy the view for a while.” 

Mac raised one knee and rested his arm on it, his hand dangling. “I just, I can’t go and apologise to Matty and my dad. I don’t think I was wrong.” 

“No one is asking you too. For what it’s worth, I don’t think Matty would ever endorse and op like that. She might give Dracula a run for his money in a Who’s the Scariest contest but she has a heart, a big one, hidden under all her prickly, dictator like personality traits. Well hidden” Jack added “really, really well hidden. She wouldn’t put Cora at risk. I think maybe your dad wouldn’t either.” 

“I thought he cared about her.” Mac shifted, turning his body away from Jack. “I watched him hold and talk to Cora and I thought that must have been what he was like when I was a baby, affectionate and attentive. That even though most of what I remember of him is someone who was distant and uncommunicative I thought there could have been a time when he had been loving and warm. And then…”Mac shook his head in silence. 

“Would you like to hear a theory of mine?” Jack asked. 

“Do I have a choice?” 

“No.” Jack cleared his throat. He needed to explain this right. To pitch it in a way that Mac wouldn’t overthink, working the idea through the cogs speeding inside his mind until it twisted into something that was his fault or failing. “You know how when Cora feels something she feels it with every fibre of her being. When she’s hungry, or wants to be held every part of her aches with that need, it fills her and it’s the only thing in the world to her. How when she’s sad every part of her is sad, from her head right down to her little toes and every bit of her shows it, right?” 

“Right.” 

“It’s not like that for adults, we don’t feel thing in that way, we have knowledge and experience we use to filter our emotions, which is just as well or I’d have a temper tantrum every time I’m in a Starbucks. You know what it can be like in there, when there’s seven people in front of you and one of them is ordering some complicated no foam, skinny, soy thing with a twist of lime and all you want is a nice hot cup of coffee?” 

Mac nodded, clearly with no idea where the analogy was going. 

“Now, because I’m an adult I understand that I’m just going to have to wait for my drink, that the line probably won’t take that long really and the poor girl on her own at the counter is doing her best and will have been on her feet for hours for a crappy wage. So I sigh and join with line politely like my mama taught me to. Children don’t have those kind of filters. The way they feel things is raw and intense,” Jack tapped on his chest with a fist. “My theory is that some of the oldest, most heartfelt wants and needs we started having when we were kids can’t ever be met when we’re adults because they go so deep and were formed when we felt with so much intensity that nothing will ever be enough to fulfill them.” 

“What are you saying?” Mac asked carefully, Jack could see confusion and the edge of resentment behind his bloodshot eyes. “That because I was mad at my dad when I was ten nothing will ever stop me being angry now so that I should ignore it, or apologise to him for being childish, or never speak to him again?” 

“No, dude. I’m saying that what you feel is what you feel. It’s old and it’s real. It might always be there in some way no matter what happens and managing that is something you might want to think on for the sake of your own peace of mind.” 

“So you’re saying that because I was angry with my dad when I was a kid there might always be a part of me that is always angry, and I might never be able to let it all out no matter how much I yell at him?” 

“You were hurt and maybe nothing will ever be enough to completely heal that. Maybe that’s your truth. So we can sit here for a spell until you find a way to settle that truth in a place inside you where you know where it is and what it does. Maybe when you know why the sadness and emptiness you’re feeling are there they won’t have so much power over you.” 

“Are you recommending mindfulness to me?” Mac quirked an eyebrow. “That’s very zen of you.” 

“It’s it helps you to call it that then yes I am. Call it what you want as long as it works.” 

“I don’t know, man. I’m just-” Mac looked so lost, so defeated Jack had to reach over and lay a hand on his shoulder for comfort. 

“You don’t have to know what you are going to do about your dad right now. It’s okay to not know, you can keep on not knowing for as long as you need to, maybe forever if that’s the way it has to be. What we can do is sit here until you are ready to leave and when you are we’ll go down, find Cora and see what happens next.” 

Mac leaned his head back to gently thump against the grey metal behind him and looked up at the sky. “I can do that.” 

“Okay.” Jack said, wiggling to get more comfortable on the hard floor beneath him. “I think you’re onto something with this roof terrace idea, this could be a pretty cool place to meet up on quiet days in the office.” Enough serious talk, Jack decided, that was enough Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance for one day. Dwelling on old hurts and new pains wasn’t good for Mac, he’d spiral and retreat deep into himself. “We need to get some sun loungers up here. And a cooler. And a barbecue, that would be sweet. Could you make a grill out of some of the stuff that’s lying around up here?” 

Mac tipped his head forwards and did a quick survey of the equipment on the roof. Then he dropped his head back and closed his eyes. “Probably.” he said. 

“Awesome.” Jack grinned, feeling the sun warm his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song You Matter To Me from the musical Waitress. The alternative title for this chapter has always been ‘Mac is sleep deprived and loses his sh!t’ :)
> 
> Matty paraphrases Winston Churchill in this chapter: "Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."


	7. All This Misery Pays No Salary So

As a trained sniper who knew how to monitoring the passage of time Jack estimated that he and Mac had stayed on the roof together for…a while. They sat in silence until Jack grew twitchy and worried about the places Mac would go in his head without a distraction. So he started to talk. He talked about the potential the roof held for becoming a hangout spot. He talked about adding a cabana, a couple of potted palm trees and wiring up a boom box, “Because we’d have to have tunes, man! We could even get a karaoke machine up here. We could have inter-departmental competitions, the geeks against the field agents, you’d have to sit that one out maybe to avoid divided loyalties.” 

Mac smiled his indulgent ‘whatever you say, Jack’ smile which quickly became genuine and Jack soon had him laughing about his plans to winch a mechanical bull up the side of the building to go next to the bar he wanted to install. 

“We’d need a system of pulleys for that, that’s your area, you could come up with something made of coat hangers and bed sheets couldn’t you?” 

Mac nodded, “Yeah, probably, I’ll think about it and let you know.” 

“It will be awesome when it’s done. We could call it Dalton’s Hideaway, or The Bar that Jack Built.” 

“Since I’m going most of the actually building work shouldn’t it be called The Bar that Mac Built?” 

“Don’t be needy, dude, it's not attractive. I’m the ideas man, the one who dared to dream big, I should get to name my own baby. You could be an associate or something.” 

“That’s very generous of you.” 

“I’m a big hearted guy.” Jack pushed himself up from the slouched position he’d sunk into and shifted his weight from side to side. “So,” he said in a determined tone that pronounced a change of topic. “How are things with you?” 

Groaning through a sigh, Mac scrubbing a hand through his hair. “More stable than they were.” He scrunched up his face as he tested out the word. “I don’t feel as on edge as I did.” 

“Do you think you could go back inside and see what’s going on?” 

“Without yelling at anyone you mean? Yes. I want to see Cora and talk to her mom.” 

Jack studied his partner. He was still pale and drawn, his eyes shadowed and haunted, but the frantic wildness was gone from his gaze and when he stood Mac straightened his spine with a sureness that showed the core of steel like strength inside him was holding fast. 

Jack had told Mac that he believed some of the wants and needs we bring with us from childhood are too primal and visceral to ever be really fulfilled as an adult. That those needs are formed when we feel with such an intensity that we will never achieve what we need to match them. He believed it because it was true for him. He had been seven years old when his sister had been hit by a car crossing the street. She’d been lucky, the car wasn’t going quickly and she escape with only cuts and bruises but Jack remembered the screech of the car’s breaks, the horrifying thump of impact as his sister was struck and the sound of mom’s screams when she realised what had happened to her child. He remembered running to the accident feeling a desperate, all-encompassing need to make it all right. To make his sister be okay and to stop his mom from crying, and that need, the need to protect and care had driven him throughout his life. It had been a constant motivator in his CIA training, in Afghanistan, and on every mission the Phoenix sent him on. The people he cared for were smart and strong but knowing that didn’t curb his urge to gather them to him and hold the harshness of the world away from them at arm’s length. That urge was with him then, looking at Mac against the backdrop of a bright blue sky, and he pulled him in for a backslapping hug. “Come on, let’s go and see what your little girl is up to. You haven’t been drooled on for almost an hour and we need to fix that.” 

  


They walked down the stairs to find their friends. Clattering down the metal steps gave Mac time to breathe through the turmoil rolling inside him and as they pushed open the door to the War Room he felt grounded enough to offer a real smile. 

Riley and Bozer were opposite Mina, who was sat in a chair looking limp with relief with Cora in her lap. Cora’s shrieked in welcome and Mac was looking over to her when he found himself pulled into a crushing hug by her mom. Trembling arms held him tightly with shaking hands gripping his plaid shirt in fists. Mac allowed himself to be held, curling forward to draw Mina to him and putting his arms around her. He could feel the quick rise and fall of her chest against his and the stutter tears gave to each of her breaths. 

“Thank you.” the word was a ghost of a whisper against Mac’s throat. 

Mac held her tighter, unable to answer. The support and gratitude in the embrace weren’t one sided, with Mac receiving as much as he gave. Taking from the vulnerable woman in his arms felt unfair but Mac was unable to draw back his need. 

Mina tightened her arms briefly and stepped away, wiping her cheeks with the back a wrist and clearing her throat. “Your boss told me that you’ve been taking care of Cora,” she said. 

“She’s been staying with me, with me and my roommate, while we’ve been looking for you. We’ve all been taking care of her.” Mac shifted, uncomfortable under her grateful scrutiny. 

“We have,” Jack scooped Cora up from her where she was tucked into one of the War Room’s leather seats, “we’ve all pitched in with the little one but Mac here has been the one playing papa bear.” Jack looked at Mac with pride in his face. “Cora’s been his sidekick for the last few days, haven’t you?” He brought Cora over to Mac and her mom were stood and passed the baby into Mac’s arms where she cooed and reached up to grab the collar of his shirt. 

Mina watched her daughter settle into Mac’s arms, stroking a finger down one of her cheeks. “Thank you, I can tell that she’s been safe and well. I can’t ever do enough to make up for what you’ve done for me.” 

Cora turned to her mother and grabbed her hand. 

Mac smiled. “It’s been my pleasure.” He handed Cora over to her mom who wrapped her arms around her. She studied her daughter’s face then looked up at Mac and they shared a moment of understanding in the few seconds when she met Mac’s eye. Mac could see where the bright perceptive spark he saw sometimes in Cora’s face came from. There was recognition there, in the depths of those eyes, Mina could see how hard caring for Cora had been for Mac, what it demanded of him, how it had made him doubt himself and how he would never regret what it taught him. 

Matty burst into the room with the drive, determination and subtlety of a runaway train. “Good, you’re all here. Mina, I have good news. We’ve arranged for a safe house for you and Cora to go to, we have one on the edge of the city and we’ll need you there for the next few days while to we get your story from you and then we’ll and we’ll be moving you to one out of state after that until this whole mess is over. 

“Thank you.” Mina sat in a chair heavily and arranged Cora into a comfortable bundle on her lap. “Will I be able to contact my fiancé? He doesn’t know about any of this, I told him I was going to visit a friend when I left town and haven’t spoken to him since,” she shook her head. “I didn’t know what to say. I haven’t contacted anyone. I’m supposed be arranging a wedding!” Mina gave a little snort of hysteria. “I’m supposed to call the florist next week! And the caterers want an answer about vegetarian options.” 

She sighed and dropped her head into her hand. 

“We can arrange a call to your partner. We’re going to keep your presence here and at our secure location classified until we have everything solved.” Matty gave Mac a significant look over Mina’s head. “But I promise we will get you in touch with your family as soon as it’s safe.” 

Mina raised he head. “So let’s get this mess cleaned up as soon as we can. It’s time for it to be over. What do you need to know?” 

“We’ve worked out that your boss isn’t who he says he is,” Riley leaned forward in her chair and laced her fingers together, Mac realised with that he hadn’t seen her without her laptop in her hands for days. Watching her hands do anything other than type was like seeing his house after he’d taken all his Christmas decoration down, familiar but bare and empty, “and that the business he’s running isn’t all legit. We figured you saw something you weren’t supposed to and he arranged for Cora to be taken before you could go to the police.” 

Mina nodded. “I started working at the company three years ago, it’s a small family business and I liked it there. There was just me and another girl who worked part time in the office and my boss was really relaxed and didn’t mind if I arrived a little late or had to leave early to pick up Cora. He was fine about me going on maternity leave too, small businesses can be difficult about women taking time off to have a baby but he was kind, understanding. Now I think that the time I spent away from work was convenient for him, and it’s when he started expanding the business into other things. 

“We’ve looked into his business dealings and think that’s when he started laundering money and using his deliveries to move drugs” Bozer said. 

“I started noticing things that didn’t add up with some payments up a couple of months ago and at first I thought they were just mistakes or things that had changed while I was away, but recently the inconsistencies that were happening were too regular and deliberate to be errors. So I started looking into what was going on. When I started really paying attention I noticed that lots of little things didn’t add up, we had clients with addresses that didn’t exist and some of the drivers who came into the office to get their pay cheques looked,” Mina paused, “different from the others, dangerous, if you know what I mean. So I copied the business’ financial records onto a flash drive and was going to take it to a friend of mine who’s a forensic accountant but someone must have seen me or realised that I’d done because the next morning when I woke up Cora wasn’t in her crib.” 

“They took her to keep you quiet?” Matty asked. The relaxed, celebratory feeling in the room melted away, replaced by a tension full of empathetic distress and anger 

Mina blinked against the tears in her eyes and ran a hand through her daughter’s hair, feeling the soft strands in her fingers to remind herself that she was there, safe and well. Mac leaned towards Mina, sympathy urging him to offer comfort, thinking of his mom’s face in his dream as her fear of not finding him grew, and of how he had felt when Cora had grinned up at him from her cot on a morning. 

“There was a phone lying on the mattress where she should have been with one number in it. When I called the number a man gave me instruction to bring the flash drive to LA to the address you found me at and to wait. After they hung up they sent me a video of Cora sitting next to a copy of that day’s newspaper. So I packed a bag, called my fiancé David and my parents and told them I was going out of town for a few days and then came straight here. I’ve been in that motel room ever since. Just waiting. I tried the number again but it was dead. If you hadn’t turned up at my door,” she took both Mac and Jack in with a look. “I don’t know that I would have done.” 

“You’ve been smart.” Riley smile was kind and rueful. “I’ve had to work hard to find you.” 

“They told me not to let anyone know where I was and to stay out of sight.” 

“Well if you ever want to change your career and go into covert ops I’ll write you a letter of recommendation.” 

Mina laughed, a short huff of amusement. “Maybe I’ll wait until this one is in school,” she said, laying a hand on Cora’s head. “I don’t know how effective a spy you can be with a toddler on your hip.” 

“You’d be surprised.” There was a flash of insight behind Matty’s smile. 

“Really?” Bozer asked. “Because-”

“Later, Bozer.” Matty cut him off with a flick of her fingers. 

“You know, I liked my boss at first.” Mina said. “He had a sense of humour and a big personality. He was nice, funny and a real character. Someone larger than life.” 

“I know the type.” Matty said, looking at Jack, who blinked and pointed to himself in a gesture that clearly said, ‘moi?’ “Where’s the flash drive with the information on now?” 

Mina rubbed her hands over her face. “I put it in a locker in the train station when I first arrived here. It’s still there. I didn’t know how safe it would be in the motel room.” 

“Does anyone else know where it is?” Mac could see ideas forming in Matty’s mind, strategies being built and a plan coming together. 

“No. Since the people who took Cora haven’t contacted me I’ve had no one to tell.” 

“Right then,” Matty snapped into action, snatching up her tablet from the table and tapping on its screen, “Jack, I want you to head out to the safe house to confirm that it’s secure before Mina and Cora arrive there. Bozer, trace the number they gave Mina back to its source, find our bad guys and see if we can tempt them out with an offer of information. Riley, you’re going to mock up a replacement for that flash drive, I’ll send Leanna to replace the original one with the one we’ve made and we’ll put eyes on the locker. Maybe we can use it to smoke the bad guys out.” 

“Okay, I can do that.” Riley said. “I’ll put appropriate looking account details on the drive in case anyone opens it. I’ve been studying the company so I can mock up something that will stand up to a first glance.” 

“What was the number of the locker that you used?” Matty asked Mina. “Can we have the key?” 

Mina pulled up a chain that had been hidden under her clothes from around her neck and unhooked a key from its links. “Locker number 137.” She said, staring hard at the key in the palm of her hand, “This has been the most important thing in the world to me, it what was going to get my baby back,” her fingers curled over the metal, cradling it with maternal devotion. “It’s been like my lucky charm, it was what was going to bring Cora back to me and it feels strange to just hand it over.” 

Mina paused. Mac waited. He sat motionless, giving Mina the time she needed to let go of the fear and desperation she’d been holding. That key had been a lifeline to her child. It had been her daughter’s salvation and the end her own nightmares. The responsibility for Mina’s child had been pressed on him after she had been ripped forcefully away from her mother. Mac wanted to let her pass on this responsibility willingly. 

“I can make a copy.” Mac held out his hand. “I’ll give you the original back, for luck. We’ll take care of everything, I promise.” 

“Of course.” She shook her head at her irrationality and turned her hand over to allow the key to fall into Mac’s open palm. It was warm from where it had rested against the heat of her body. “I’m sorry, it’s just I can’t believe it’s almost over.” She slid her empty hand into Cora’s, lacing their fingers together. “It’s almost over, sweetheart.” 

  


It looked like he was being given one of the quality undercover cars again. Mac wondered how he had managed to win the car pool lottery twice in one week as he walked through the echoing garage to where the best car the Phoenix allowed it’s agents to drive was parked. 

Mina was following close behind with Cora in her arms. She was looking around her, curiosity in each glance. 

“So this is what the inside of a top secret spy organisation looks like then?” She asked, looking at the grey walls and low ceiling of the parking lot. 

“Is it not what you were expected?” 

“I thought there’d be more speed boats, and labs with huge lasers hanging from the ceiling where people in white coats make gadgets like in James Bond movies. The bits where Bond gets a watch that explodes when he whistles and shoes that have rocket launchers hidden in their heels were always my favourite part of those movies.” 

“Me too. I still think Q is the coolest person in the Bond franchise.” Mac gestured around them, at the bland cars parked in neat rows under the artificial lighting that gave everything under it a sallow tint. “This is only the area we’re allowing you to see.” One eyebrow moved upwards in a playful hitch. “All the good stuff is kept in the secret underground levels.” 

“Ah, I should have known.” Mina grinned, joining in with the game. “The top secret stuff is always in the secret underground rooms. All the best covert operations have subterranean levels. Or secret bases hidden at the bottom of the ocean.” 

“I wanted to build our headquarters in an extinct volcano.” James’ voice called out. “But they told me it exceeded the budget.” 

Mac had wondered who would be going in the car with him since Matty had sent Jack ahead to the safe house. He’d expected another agent to be waiting at the car for them, thinking it would be one of the ones Jack had been training in protection protocols. He never expected to be accompanied by his father. Oversight didn’t do witness transfers. Those duties fell way below his paygrade and level of responsibly. And that was on a normal day; never mind on a day where the witness being moved was one who Mac had been caring for and who’s safety he had fought for by marching into his father’s office and yelling. 

“Mina, I presume.” James walked around the car they had been heading to and reached out to shake her hand. 

“That’s right,” Mina shuffled Cora to hold her with one hand and took James’ in her other. 

“Mina, this is,” Mac faltered, “this is…” Oversight? My boss? My dad? 

“I’m James,” His father filled in the gap that Mac left open, “Mac is my son, and I’m the head of the Phoenix Foundation. I’m going to be coming with you to the safe house.” 

“Oh!” Mina looked between them, delight brightening her features as she looked back and forth between Mac and his father. “You’re son has done a wonderful job of taking care of Cora, I’m so grateful.” 

James turned to Mac with pride in his eyes. “He has. It’s wonderful to see you reunited. ” He opened the back door of the car, “Shall we?” Mina to climbed in and tucked Cora into the baby seat waiting there. 

As Mac watched Mina fasten her own seatbelt her realised that he’d been frozen to the spot, struck dumb, since his father had appeared. 

“What are you doing?” he asked in voice too low for Mina to hear. 

“I’m helping you take them somewhere safe.” James’ expression rested on the pleased side of neutral. He didn’t look like a man who’d been on the receiving end of a furious tirade that afternoon, he looked as though he was ready to leave for a pleasant outing. 

“But…why?” Mac floundered, “what?” 

“Are you coming?” James pulled the car keys from his pocket and swung them around on his finger. “I’m driving.” 

They pulled out of the garage and Cora started to sing to herself back seat, flapping her hands and grinning a gummy smile with the tip of a white tooth peeking through the pink. 

Mac put a hand in his pocket searching for his Swiss Army Knife. He closed is fist around the metal, holding it tight, reassured by the familiar weight in his palm. He had surpassed anger, disappointment and hurt and felt like he was in unchartered waters that had him floating somewhere outside of his own emotions. If Jack had asked Mac how he was feeling for the fifth time that day - he was getting closer to earning that bottle of champagne - Mac wouldn’t know how to answer. His father was driving Cora and her mom to the safe house. After everything that had happened they were all driving through the city together as if they were going on a family picnic. Mac decided to stop trying to process what was happening. He could do that later, when this was all over. Right then getting Cora and Mina was his priority. 

Mac twisted in his seat to reach behind him and took Cora’s hand “You like an outing, don’t you Little Bird?” 

“Little Bird?” Mina asked, amused. 

“Jack called her ‘duckling’ when we first brought her back to the Phoenix,” Mac flushed and rubbed at back of his neck, “and the name just stuck, Little Bird came from that. I think it suits her. It suits you doesn’t it?” Mac asked the baby, tickling her belly, “She’s cute and noisy and wants to be fed most of the time.” 

Mina laughed. “I picked the name Cora because it’s an alternative name for the Greek goddess Persephone. The story of Persephone is my favourite myth but it’s a mouthful of a name.” 

“Going through school with an odd sounding name isn’t always fun.” Mac shot James a look and saw the side of his mouth tick upwards into a smile. 

“I’ve always thought that Persephone had it all, she’s the Queen of Spring and the Goddess of the Underworld by turns, she has the chance to be everything that she wants to be.” Mina stared out into the street, looking past the cars to somewhere far in the distance. “I didn’t think about what the cycles of her life meant for her mother. Persephone going to Hades to live as the Goddess of the Dead is what causes winter to come. When her daughter is taken from her Demeter misses her so much that living things stop growing and the land become barren. She can’t function when her child is missing. Life stops for her.” 

“Demeter isn’t a victim.” James said, his eyes checking the road and his mirrors as he spoke. “She’s the Goddess of Fertility of the Earth. She’s a formidable person. She got Zeus and Hades to comprise and arrange for her daughter to come back from the Underworld for six months of the year after Hades kidnapped her. Getting those two Gods to back down and talk was quite a feat. Almost like staying hidden from an agency that specialises in uncovering intelligence.” 

“I suppose so.” Mina looked back from the window to where Cora was gumming at her fist. “She could have…”

The car rocked as an impact smashed into its side. Cora screamed. Mina threw her arms around her baby. Metal screeched against metal. 

“Dad!” Mac yelled as they were pushed off the road and the van colliding with them accelerated to block their path. James gritted his teeth as his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. 

“Hold on, son.” 

The car came to a harsh stop that threw Mac forward in his seat, James’ arm across his chest steadying him. Thick grey fog from what must had to be smoke bombs engulfed the car. 

“Cora?” Mac turned as the windows beside Mina and Cora exploded inwards and black clad arms reached in through the jagged holes. “Cora!” Mac yelled as Mina screamed, “No!” 

Mac wrenched the car door open and scrambled out. Mina was struggling against the grip of a figure dressed all in black with his face covered with a ski mask, she clawed, kicked and screamed at the man trying to drag her away from the car. “Get off her!” She yelled. “No! Let her go!” 

Mac launched himself at Mina’s attacker, fury in the swing of his fist. A punch landed square against the man’s cheekbone and he staggered back, then a sudden, brilliant pain burst against Mac’s temple driving him to his knees on the glass strewn floor. His head spun. Smoke stung his eyes. The sounds of Mina’s screams and Cora’s terrified cries echoed in his ears. Then shots rang out, too loud and too close. The sounds had Mac rushing to his feet and running, kicking a smoke bomb away to clear the air enough for him to see that his father was lying on the floor with blood soaking his shirt and that Cora and Mina were gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song Santa Fe from the musical Rent.


	8. Gentle impulsion, shakes me, makes me lighter

“Dad!” Mac dropped to his knees and pressed hard on the wound on James’ chest. His father’s blood, warm and oozing despite the pressure Mac was exerting, flowed through his fingers. 

The back road they had been taking was empty of other cars leaving Mac to kneel alone beside his father surrounded by smoke, fumes and broken glass. Pain thrummed in his head in sharp beats in time with his pulse and his ears rang, Mac squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head to clear it. 

James hissed and arched up. “Where’s the baby?” His hand clamped around Mac’s wrist, gripping hard. “I didn’t get to them in time, I...” James gritted his teeth and tensed his muscles in an attempt to rise. 

“No, you’re hurt, lie still!” Mac activated his comms with a shaking hand. “Matty, we’ve been ambushed. Cora and her mom were taken and my dad’s been shot. We need to get every camera in the city looking for them and a med evac right now.” 

“What do we need to look for?” Matty said, as professional and coolly collected as ever. Mac had always admired her stoicism, even though at times it unnerved him, and right then he was incredibly grateful for it. He trusted her to do what needed to be done with calm preternatural efficiency. 

“Black van” James coughed, “collision damage to the left side, Arizona plate starting with EP4.” He slumped onto the blood covered ground beneath him, exhausted by the act of speaking. 

“ “Okay Mac, I’m on it. Riley is into every system that she can find and I’ll have a team with you ASAP, hold on. That means you too, Jim. I don’t have time to break in a new boss.” 

The air was clearing as the last effects of the smoke bomb drifted away and Mac could see tyre marks on the road where the van carrying Cora and Mina had sped off. He ached to run after them, sprint through the streets until he found them and brought them home safely but he was terrified to leave his father, scared that if he wasn’t applying pressure and demanding that his father hold on, keep his eyes open, he would slip away. 

“Angus,” James skin was grey, “listen…”

“No.” Mac growled through a clenched jaw. “I don’t want to hear it.” Blood covered his hands and ran through his fingers to pool underneath James’ body. Mac pressed down harder, rising up on his knees to push his weight down on the hole a bullet had ripped into his father. 

“Angus.” 

“No!” 

James threw a hand up to grip the side of Mac’s face, the palm holding Mac’s jaw was wet with blood. “You always mattered.” 

Mac shook his head to loosening James’ hold on him. He wanted to scream at his dad to stop. 

Stop. No. Don’t do this. Not now. Please don’t. Not like this. I can’t. _Shut up!_

He didn’t want to hear the truth like that, with two of them huddled in the ruins of a mission, covered in blood and failure. 

“You and your mom are the only things that have ever mattered to me.” James tightened his hold with surprising strength, willing Mac to understand. “Your mom knew me better than I knew myself. I relied on her to tell me what I was feeling, she always knew what to do and what to say and after she was gone I didn’t know how to…” Desperate heartbreak shadowed James’ eyes as stared up at his son, blood flecking lips that parted with each gasped breath. “I didn’t know how to…how to feel, how to be. But you mattered son, nothing ever mattered more.” 

Mac had hands like his father, strong, capable hands that were confidently quick and clever. James’ hands had taught Mac how to tie his shoelace and build models. Having one buried in his hair, holding him with a fervent need for him to understand an emotional plea was unprecedented and wholly unwanted. At any other time Mac would have welcomed his father’s honesty but not then. Not with pain and fear and loss between them. He’d take half-truths over a death bed confession. 

Dad, please I-”

“James grip loosened. “Angus.” His eyes lost focus. “Son.” His hand slipped from Mac’s jaw to fall lifelessly to the floor. 

“Dad!” 

  


Mac missed Nasha. 

No, that wasn’t strictly true. It wasn’t Nasha that Mac missed, not exactly. He missed being in the company of someone he was intimate with. Someone he loved and had been close to, as close as it’s possible for two people to be. Someone who could hold him as he clung to them to help stop him from shaking apart. 

That felt like a very real prospect, imminent despite being impossible. Mac felt as though if he released the trembling reaction banked up inside him he would shake so violently he would lose all structural integrity and crumble into broken shards. 

He stared down at the hospital floor, past hands that had been scrubbed clean to the beige linoleum beneath his feet. 

His father breathed in the bed next him, the tube feeding him oxygen hissing softly as he slept. 

James had survived the surgery. That was good. The doctors were optimistic about his recovery. That was also good. Mac had things to be thankful for and reasons to be grateful, and he was. He really was. But he couldn’t help feeling that he needed to sit still and breathe carefully or everything around him would shatter. 

“Mac?” 

Matty pushed her way into the room and let the door swing closed behind her. She studied Mac, hummed in response to what she saw and went to the small sink at the edge of the room to wet a hand towel with warm water. 

“I spoke to Jack,” she said, walking up to him and standing close enough to him that he could smell her perfume and see flecks of amber in her brown eyes. “I managed to calm him down a little. He was furious he wasn’t there when you and your father were attacked. He said, well, I’m sure you can imagine what he said.” She lifted the towel to gently clean the side of Mac’s jaw and the hair curling beside it, the damp fabric coming away stained pink. He had washed his face but must have missed some of the bloody marks left on his skin by his father’s hands. Mac closed his eyes and leaned into Matty’s touch. It was a simple, caring gesture, motivated by nothing but affection, and it felt to Mac like the only grounded part of a life that had become suddenly and horribly overwhelming. “He’s coming here after he’s been debriefed. I did try to convince him he’d be more use with the tactical team back at the Phoenix but he insisted on checking on you.” 

Mac nodded, a small smile curling up at Jack’s stubbornness. Jack had been to a debriefing, he should have gone to one too. There would be reports to file and details to report…

“I should…I’m sorry…I…”

“No.” Matty dismissed his concerns with lift of her chin. She dabbed at his clean, damp skin with a dry section of her towel. “Don’t worry about any of that. You don’t have to be an agent right now. Everything is being taken care of. Investigations and phone calls are all happening, including a call to the LAPD to demand they find out exactly who on their staff leaked the details of the top secret witness transfer they’d been told about as a professional courtesy. Out there,” she gestured to the corridor beyond the windows of his father’s hospital room, “the Phoenix is doing what it does best. In here? We’re family.” 

She threw the dirtied towel over her shoulder at the sink. It landed in the centre of the basin. 

“I’ve spoken to the surgeon, he thinks there’s a very good chance your father will make a full recovery.” 

Mac nodded, words catching half formed and unuttered in his throat. 

“We’re looking everywhere for Cora and her mom. Riley and Bozer wanted to be with you but I convinced that to stay and help in the search first. I told them that was what you would want. I hope I was right.” 

Mac nodded again. Finding Cora was the priority. She and Mina were out there somewhere, scared and defenceless. The knowledge churned in Mac’s gut. “The first night Cora was with me,” he choked out, “I told her I would do everything I could to look after her. I promised her I’d keep her safe. She trusted me. So did Mina.” 

“Whoever attacked you were professionals who took us by surprise, all of us, including your father and he’s been doing this job for a lot longer than you.” 

“I’ve been worried about not knowing how to look after Cora.” Mac blinked away the sting of tears, not wanting to invoke Matty’s sympathy. He didn’t feel that compassion was his to claim. “When we found her mom I thought that my role as her carer had finished so I lowered my guard. And then they took her. I let her down.” 

They’d trusted him to protect them and now they were gone. Mina had said that losing Cora had been like a summer’s day suddenly becoming winter and Mac understood. The world felt unforgiving and barren, light and hope distant memories. The place on his chest where the baby used to nestle was empty and cold. 

“This isn’t your fault.” 

“I told her I’d keep her safe.” 

“You did.” Matty insisted. “She was safe when the whole time she was with you. I knew she would be, why do you think I assigned you to look after her? Because she was “impinged’ on you? Please.” She glared. “Maybe you’ve never been a member of The Babysitter’s Club but I knew she’d be okay with you because I knew you’d care enough to make sure she was.” 

“You were wrong this time Matty. I failed. Just like I did with Cage and Zoe and Jill. I didn’t protect them either.” Matty had once told Mac that he’d been lucky on missions in the past and that she didn’t want to be watching when his luck ran out. He’d thought that would never happen, that his success during ops wasn’t about luck, it was about paying attention and taking the bigger risk, but, sitting in that hospital room, he was sure that luck had failed him, over and over again, he’d been just been arrogant and blinkered enough to not notice because it hadn’t hurt him. “I wasn’t a good choice of substitute parent for Cora, I couldn’t even get her to sleep or to eat without a meal without half of it winding up on the floor.” 

“She’s a baby! That’s what all babies do, Mac. They cry, they wake in the night, they smear their dinner up the walls. That’s parenthood. Cora was happy with you. Whenever I saw her with you she was smiling and chattering. And if she wasn’t you would find a way to stop her crying. That means she felt loved with you. And that’s what matters. You didn’t fail. I’m really proud of you. And I saw your dad watching you with her, he’s proud too.” 

Mac pushed himself to his feet in a rushed snap of motion, needing to be away from that conversation and the sincerity in Matty’s eyes. He stopped moving when he reached the opposite side of his father’s bed, reaching down to grip the railing around it. 

“Have you had that looked at?” Matty pointed to the bruise spreading from his temple into his hairline. 

“Yes, the doctor said it was fine.” Mac explored the darkening, tender mark with his fingertips, grateful that Matty had changed the subject but unnerved that she knew him well enough to see he needed her to. He wondered what she thought he would do if she pushed the topic further. “It’s just a bruise.” 

“Good. I’m glad that you’re not hurt.” Matty looked down at her watch and sighed. “I have to make a phone call. Are you going to be okay?” 

Mac twitched a shoulder, trying to think of a convincing answer. 

“Of course you’re not okay. Not now. But you will be.” Matty fixed Mac with an uncompromising look. “We are going to make this okay. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Good. I have to go, I’m scheduled to yell at someone in two minutes and I don’t want to miss that appointment. Look after yourself, Blondie.” 

She turned and walked out of the room, a tornado in human form on it's way to blow into someone’s life via a cell phone connection. Mac watched her go, feeling like he’d been threatened into self-care by a benevolent force of nature. It was heart-warming and a little scary. 

James lay silent and still in the bed beside Mac, the machine monitoring his condition flashing with the rhythm of his vital signs. 

“So, I matter and you’re proud of me.” Mac said to his father. 

He looked vulnerable in sleep. Like a frail middle aged man. Like any of the other men resting and healing in rooms all around the hospital. His wound had stripped him of his title and status and there was no way to tell that he was the head of a clandestine spy organisation. Mac and he could almost pretend that they were a normal father and son. 

“We’re not though, are we? Do you think that, maybe, we could be?” 

James slept on. His skin thin and grey against his harsh white sheets and Mac realised with a shock that his father had aged. Cancer had taken his mother before she reached her thirties and she would always be young in Mac’s memory; he had never considered until that moment that his father could grow older. Unlike his mom his dad would age until he was an old man, becoming frailer and frailer as he neared the end of his life. The idea that his dad was a human being who would grow old and sick and not just a timeless figure from his childhood wasn’t something that Mac had ever considered. The knowledge sat uncomfortably inside him. 

“I think I love you, but a lot of the time I’m not even sure that I like you.” Mac watched his father’s chest rise and fall, struggling again to understand the heart beating inside it. “I feel like we’re alike but not in the ways that matter. I don’t understand you. I don’t understand how the woman I remember mom being would chose to be with you. She hated dishonesty, whenever I was in trouble she’d tell me she wouldn’t be mad if I told her what I’d done and didn’t lie about it. And you never tell a complete truth.” A nurse passed outside the door. The metal railing on James’ bed grew warm in Mac’s hand. James slept. A bubble of hysteria rose up in Mac’s throat and he huffed out a laugh. This was the most open he’d ever been with his dad and he hadn’t heard a word Mac had said. If it wasn’t funny it would just be tragic so Mac laughed, there had been too much tragedy already that day. “Just once it would be nice for us to have an honest conversation when nothing is burning and no one is bleeding or unconscious.” He closed his eyes and spoke into the dark. “Cora’s missing. What do you do when circumstances you can’t control hurt a chid you love? What did you tell me when mom got sick?” 

There was no answer. Mac hadn’t been expecting one. If he had he might not have asked his questions. 

When he opened his eyes he saw Jack approach the guard at the door. They shared a nod of recognition and Jack walked into the room. 

“Mac, are you okay, dude?” Concerned brown eyes flickered over Mac, looking for injuries. “I’m sorry, I should have insisted that I came with you. I should have known moving Cora and her mom wouldn’t be a cake walk, when does anything we ever do turn out to be easy?” He stood at the foot of James’ bed, tapping his hand against the chart hanging there. “How’s your dad?” 

“The surgeon said they think he’ll be okay.” Mac wrapped his arms around himself then dropped them back down at his sides when he realised what he’d done. “They were worried at first, it was rough for a while, but he pulled through the surgery and…” he waved a hand at his father and the machine attached to him counting each breath and heartbeat, “yeah, here we are.” 

Jack looked back at Mac and inclined his head to the bruise near Mac’s eyes. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. And that’s six times you’ve asked me that now?” 

Jack barked a laugh. “Maybe we should stop counting. Listen, Riley asked me to give you something.” 

“Okay.” 

Jack opened his arms. “Come here.” 

“What?” Mac dragged the first syllable of the word out in confusion. 

“She told me to give you a hug. A real hug not, and this is a quote, ‘One of those macho back slapping things that are all dude bro swagger and no sentiment’. Come on.” He twitched his hand, beckoning Mac over. 

Mac leaned away ever so slightly. 

“You need to get over here man, I am not going back and explaining to her that I didn’t do what she told me to. You don’t want a part in that whole carnival of angry retribution either. Come here!” 

Mac knew what Riley was like when she was angry and he didn’t want that kind of wrath aimed in his direction. He stepped forward and Jack drew him in for a hug. 

He’d seen Jack hold Riley in a way that crushed her close to him while being tenderly affectionate. Jack would fit her smaller body inside his arms in a way that must have felt to Riley, as much as she fussed and blustered about Jack’s helicopter parenting, like the safest place in the world to be. Being built on a leaner frame but standing at roughly the same height as Jack meant that Mac couldn’t be tucked under his chin but Jack still managed to enclose Mac in a hug that was uncompromisingly all encompassing. One arm circled his back while the other rested a hand against the back of his neck and Mac let his friends’ affection and concern surround him. It felt like, the muscles of Jack’s arm bunched against Mac’s ribs as he tightened his hold, it felt like he might not fall apart after all. 

They stood silently for much longer than the average dude bro hug lasted until eventually Jack drew back and quirked an eyebrow. “Do you think that’ll make her happy?” 

“Yeah, I think that will satisfy Riley’s exacting standards.” 

“Good,” Jack stepped away, “because there’s something you need to know. We can find Cora.” 

“What? How?” Adrenalin spiked through Mac’s veins. 

“Riley tagged her blanket. She couldn’t really get over the fact that we couldn’t track her using it when she first came to us so she put some kind of spray stuff on it that can be tracked using satellites, she’s redirecting or recalibrating or whatever-ing some now.” 

“We’ll be able to find Cora?” 

“No one is expecting you to go and get her but I wanted you to know what was happening. You should probably stay here with your old man, you’ve just pulled him bleeding from an ambush, you shouldn’t be suiting up with a tac team and…”

“I’m coming.” Mac insisted. He had to get her back. He had to be there when they got her back. 

“I don’t know, your daddy…”

Mac looked at his dad. “He’d want me to go. I need to get them back, man. He’ll understand that.” 

Jack quirked a smile that lit up his eyes. “Let’s go then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song Teardrop by Massive Attack
> 
> They used some ‘Spray This On Someone And You Can Trace Them Via Satellite’ stuff in a couple of episodes of NCIS:LA and I googled it and apparently it is a real thing so I figured the Phoenix would have access to some…
> 
> I’m away for the next few days – going to London baby! – so the next chapter will be posted in about a weeks’ time 
> 
> xxx


	9. Nothing satisfies but I'm getting close, closer to the prize at the end of the rope

Matty pushed her phone into her pocket and stepped into James’ hospital room. Mac had just left with Jack and the only sound in the room was the swish and hiss of the machine helping James breathe. She marched up to the bed and stood by James’ head, leaning forward to speak into his ear. “Listen Jim, you need to pull though. I spent months leaving breadcrumbs for your boy to lead him back to you and I didn’t do that so you could shuffle of his mortal coil before you had the chance to really talk and build something real between the pair of you. You get better, do you hear me?” 

  


Her baby was in her arms. 

Mina could smell the ocean and hear seagulls wheeling but the window of the small room she’d been locked in had been painted over so she couldn’t see out. The room was dirty, a featureless abandoned office empty of anything that could use as a weapon. She didn’t know where she was, she didn’t know what was going to happen next but she had her daughter and that’s what mattered. That gave her strength. 

Mac’s father had said that Demeter, Persephone’s mother, was formidable and she would be too. She straightened her spine. Spring had just come back into her life and there was no way she was going to let anyone take it away. She would not face another winter, not so soon after the sun had risen again. Mina felt sure Mac and his friends were looking for them, she just needed to stay strong and focused until the opportunity for escape arrived. 

Cora whimpered in her arms, clingy and unsettled, looking around her in confusion and fear. “It’s okay, sweetie.” Mina whispered into her hair. “Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll see all our friends soon.” 

  


“We’re nearly at the Docks. Ri.” Jack said into his comms. “Are the team ready?” 

“They’re just waiting for you to take the lead, Jack.” Riley answered. 

Mac glanced up at the CCTV camera he and Jack were driving past and wondered if Riley was watching them on it from her place in the War Room. She probably was. On that camera and every single on the area with Bozer at her side, doing everything they could to make the mission a success. 

Since leaving the hospital Mac had felt disconnected from his surroundings, everything around him felt superficial. Mac was aware of the road he and Jack were on and the conflict that undoubtedly waited for them at their destination, and he accepted then dismissed them. The only thing that mattered was finding Cora and her mom and making them safe. That was his focus, everything else was a fleeting irrelevance. If he focused on his goal Mac didn’t have to think about the rending clash of metal of the kidnapper’s van smashing into the car taking Cora and Mina to safety. He didn’t think about Cora’s cries. Or Mina’ furious screams. Or the regular dance of the line on the monitor charting his father’s heartbeats. 

Thinking would become feeling. And feeling would be crippling. 

Jack parked and he and Mac made their way through a maze of packing containers to meet the Phoenix team. The docks were vast, with echoing paths that smelled of fuel and the ocean, a city of metal boxes where it would be easy to get lost or to lose someone. If they didn’t have Riley to guide them through Mac doubted they would find Cora in time. He pushed the thought away. They did have Riley. They would find Cora. He would make this right. 

Jack greeted the Phoenix team with a nod. They were all in tactical gear except for agents Benjamin and Bareilles who were in civilian clothes as part of the plan for them to stage a diversion. 

“Are you two ready to have a lovers tiff?” Jack asked. 

“Oh yeah,” Agent Benjamin’s nose wrinkled as she grinned. “I’ll enjoy yelling and him and being paid for it.” 

“You’re going to be yelling at me?” Agent Barellies replied, straightening his shirt so that it hid the gun tucked against his hip. 

“Of course.” 

“What about?” 

“Ah, I’ll think of something. I’m sure you’ve done something to deserve it.” 

“Have you been talking to my wife?” 

Agent Benjamin slapped a hand against her partner’s bicep. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“Right then, everyone set?” Jack asked. The team nodded the affirmative. Their readiness clear in the taught lines of their bodies. “Then let’s get this done.” 

  


The hinges of the door groaned as the office door opened and Mina’s boss came into the room, dominating the small space with his presence. His blue suit was bespoke and he cut a fine figure against the rust and decay of the old walls behind him. 

“Mina.” He said as if he were greeting her at the coffee machine. “It’s good to see you. Arranging this meeting has taken longer than I anticipated. We need to talk. I need to know what you’ve been up to, particularly what you’ve been telling your new friends.” 

“I waited.” Mina let out a shaking breath and drew a steady, grounding one in. It was time to be strong. “I waited for days and I heard nothing from you. Then they came to me and told me that they’d found my daughter and kept her safe. I don’t feel like I owe you an explanation.” 

“Events didn’t go to plan. I hired the wrong people. Outsourcing can be such a headache.” Myers held up his hands in exasperation, as if he was explaining a delayed delivery to one of his customers. Mina half expected him to offer her twenty percent off her next order as compensation. “You remember what it was like trying to find a contract for people to service our vans?” 

“I suppose it can be tricky to get references for kidnappers.” Mina held tighter to Cora as she laced her words with as much scorn as she could muster. 

“Not as hard as you’d think, not if you know the right people.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t use your rent-a-hostage taker contact again. The guys you used were caught.” Caught, interrogated and locked away and Cora had been cared for by good people. People Mina felt sure were looking for them. “I’d ask for a refund if I was you.” 

“You know what the problem is?” Myers shoved his hands into his suit pocket as he ambled towards Mina, comfortable with his topic and a situation that was surreal and terrifying to Mina. “It’s all apps and hashtags these days. There’s no style, no panache, no personal touch. No one is interested in reputation, respect or building a legacy. All anyone cares about are re-tweets and followers. What even _are_ those things? I built an empire back in my old life, I had power, people knew and had reverence for me, and I did it all without any of this.” Myers mimed scrolling on a smart phone. “After I retired I had a good thing going with the delivery business. Something solid and legitimate. But there was no recognition for hard work. I had quotes undercut by young guys with pickup trucks and kept being told I had to have an internet presence to survive. Where’s the challenge in a website, the sense of achievement, the respect? You know?” 

“No. No I don’t know, Michael.” The world he hankered for was a very a different one from hers. One that had invaded her life and threatened her child. “But you’re not Michael are you, you’re Myers?” 

“That’s the name by mother gave me. It’s traditional in my family, my father and grandfather both had that name. Tradition is important to me. You don’t get tradition in a tweet.” 

The charming character Mina had thought her boss was had become a caricature of a mob boss like the ones in the old movies her dad used to like to watch. The strength radiating from Myers’ broad shouldered stance that she’d always thought came from years of gritty, hard work actually came from a ruthlessness she could see in him now that he had removed his mask of legitimacy. She shifted Cora’s weight in her arms to hide a shiver. 

“So, what did you tell your new friends about me Mina?” 

“They already knew all about you when I met them. They’d been digging into your past.” 

Myers was still except for a slow nod of his head. His icy calmness was more frightening than if he’d shouted or lashed out to break something in anger. “Did you give them the information you took?” 

“No. I said I’d tell them where it was when Cora and I were safe.” The lie was a risk but one she had to take. The flash drive with the information she’d copied about Myers illegal business deals was the only card she had to play. 

“Where is it?” 

  


Agent Benjamin stamped across the forecourt of the warehouse Mina and Cora were inside, her fists clenched and fury writ large on her features. Agent Barellies rushed along beside her. 

“I told you we were lost!” Agent Benjamin jabbed an accusatory finger at her partner. “I said we should have turned left, but oh no, you knew best and now look!” She threw her hands up and pointed and the shabby exterior of the warehouse. “This is not the marina!” 

“Just calm down, you’re acting like this is the end of the world.” Agent Barellies rolled his eyes. “We’re just a little turned around.” 

“A little turned around?” The mockery dripping from Agent Benjamin’s words was so finely honed that Mac wondered if she put using irony on her resume as one of her special skills. “We’re ‘a little turned around’ in the same way that the passengers of the Titanic got ‘a little bit wet’.” 

The guards at the front of the warehouse nudged each other as they watched the drama unfold before them and Mac and Jack used their inattention to sneak in the door on the side of the main entrance. The loading bay was a warren of conveyer belts and ropes that hung from the ceiling, swinging slightly in the breeze coming in from the open loading bay. A small room was tucked into a back corner, it’s window was covered in black paint but Mac could see shadows moving behind inside. 

“There.” He tapped Jack’s shoulder and pointed. 

“I see it.” Jack looked out at the guards loitering between him and Mac and the back of the warehouse. “I don’t suppose you could kick the intensity of the diversion up a notch.” He said into his comms. “There are a bunch of unfriendlies between us and the prize. 

A shriek pierced the air. “What do you mean my mother came onto you?” 

The guards in front of Mac and Jack looked up and headed towards the forecourt to see what was happening. 

“Agent Benjamin doesn’t fool around does she?” Jack glanced toward the entrance where screams of outrage were echoing. He gave an appreciative tip of his head. “I like her. The coast is clear, let’s get our duckling back.” 

  


Mina held up the locker key. “It’s in a locker in the train station. It’s been there since I arrived in LA.” The copy of the key Mac had made was back at the Phoenix; Mina hoped the original she’d carried with her for days brought the good fortune she’d imagined it to hold. 

“Has anyone else seen it?” 

“No. I haven’t given the drive to anyone else.” She hadn’t. If the Phoenix had accessed the information it was because someone had retrieved it from it’s hiding place, not because she’d handed it over.

Myers took the key from Mina’s fingers and tucked in safely in the inside pocket of his jacket. “I liked you Mina.” he said. “I still do. You have moxie. That’s a quality I admire.” 

A shout from outside interrupted him, the words were indistinguishable but fury was clear in the sound. It was followed by a crash and another yell, this one full of alarm. 

Myers’ eyes narrowed. “If you’ll excuse me I need to go and see what’s happening out there. When I get back we’ll continue this conversation.” He left the room and Mina heard a click as he locked the door behind him. 

  


Mac and Jack watched Myers leave the office from their places hunched behind a wooden crate. When he was clear they ran forward and Mac picked the door’s lock while Jack covered him. Mac poured all his attention into the task, his hands steady and they worked with his Swish Army Knife. The metal clicked as the final tumbler fell into place and Mac jumped to his feet and shoved the door open. 

Mina was stood in the centre of the room with Cora wrapped protectively in her arms. Her eyes were wide with fear but her jaw clenched with determination.

“Mac?” She took a shocked step backwards, “Jack?” 

“Live and in person.” Jack drawled. “We’re here to rescue you.” 

“Are you okay?” Mac ran to them and stroked a hand over Cora’s head. “Are either of you hurt?” 

Cora looked frightened and miserable but she was unharmed. But Mac kept checking her, running his hand over her examining her for bumps and broken bones and to feel her real and alive under his hands. She growled out a complaint and wiggled under Mac’s touch. Her protests the best sound he’d heard all day. 

“We’re fine.” Mina said. “A little shook up but we’re not hurt. Are you okay?” She looked up at Mac and her eyes catching on the bruise on his face. She hissed at the sight of it and reached with tentative fingers to gently trace the mark. “Is your dad okay? I heard gunshots but I couldn’t see what was happening through the smoke.” 

“He was hurt.” Mac said. “He’s in the hospital. The doctors think he’ll be okay.” It sounded clean and clinical put like that. The simple explanation fitted Mac’s resolve to not feel, not yet. 

The shouts coming from outside multiplied and changed in pitch, becoming deeper and louder. Jack lifted his weapon as he checked the warehouse for threats. 

He turned his head into the room, “C’mon sweethearts,” he grinned, “and Mac, I think it’s time we got out of here.” 

Jack surveyed the empty warehouse as they silent crept from the office, his posture alert and primed to defend the people he was protecting. Mac followed behind Mina and Cora, shielding them by leaning over them with a hand resting on Mina’s lower back. 

They ducked through rusting equipment as crashes, yells of outrage and grunts of pain came from outside. Benjamin and Bareilles’ lovers tiff had becoming something more threatening. The diversion intended to redirect attention had become an attack to draw away enemies. 

“We need to move,” Jack jerked his chin towards the noise. “It’s getting real out there.” He pointed to a door at the back of the bay that lead to a shadow filled room. “Let’s go, quick like bunnies.” 

They ran, Mac curling a hand over Cora’s head as he went. They were so close to safety, it was almost within reach. All he needed to do was get Cora and her mom out of the dark building and the danger he could feel reaching for them it’s the decaying rooms. There was violence nearby but he kept them moving and didn’t falter he could get them to safety. 

As they ran through the door Jack hissed at them to flatten themselves against the wall and looked back into the loading bay. “Look,” he said, as three of the guards came inside heading for the office where Cora and her mom had been. “Unwanted company. I’ll go and have a talk with them real quick and you head straight for the back door. Exfil are waiting to get you all home free. Okay, Hoss?” 

“Of course.” Mac nodded. “Be safe, man.” 

Jack jogged after the guards, his gun ready in his hand. 

“Will he be alright?” Mina asked, watching Jack as he moved stealthily after the guards. “He’s on his own.” 

“He’ll be fine. He knows how to take care of himself.” Mac turned his back on Jack, trusting his training and experience would protect him. “The only thing we need to worry about it getting you out of here.” 

Mina nodded sharply. “Okay.” 

  


They ran past conveyer belts and rusting chains attached to hoists. The room must have been a packing area, old cardboard boxes sagged damply in piles and a pair of work gloves lay abandoned on the floor. Beams of sunlight filtered through dirty windows casting muted beams that caught dancing motes of dust. Mac grabbed Mina’s hand, she squeezed his fingers. 

“We’re nearly there.” 

The exit was in front of them. The asphalt floor and metal containers beyond it were visible through the open door, brightly lit by daylight against the gloom of the warehouse. A few more steps and they would be free, out of the dark, Mac could get Cora and her mom to exfil and they would be safe. Just a few more steps and…

“Mina.” Myers stepped out of the shadows and levelled a gun at them, “I told you I wanted to continue our conversation.” 

Mac skidded to a halt, his heart thundering in his chest. “She’s leaving. I’m not going to let you touch either of them.” He said and pushed Mina behind him, putting himself between Mina, Cora and the gun. 

Myers gave an exasperated huff and rolled his eyes. “You see?” He leaned to the side to speak to Cora over Mac’s shoulder. “This is what I’m talking about. In the old days you’d be with some hard assed cop with a dirty secret or a gambling debt that I could blackmail or bribe. Now I get a snowflake millennial with a boyband’s haircut. What am I supposed to do with that? Threaten to post on Instagram that I don’t like his vegan lifestyle vlog?” 

“My team will be here in a minute,” Mac holding up a hand palm up to placate Myers while the other tucked Cora closer behind him, “if you surrender it will - ” 

“I don’t want to hear from you, kid.” 

Myers struck without warning. The bored irritation on his face barely changing as he lashed out, the hand holding the gun whipping round to collide sharply with Mac’s cheekbone. 

A flash of brightness sparked behind Mac’s eyes and he fell hard, the force of his body hitting the concrete floor driving his breath out in a rush. He felt something run down his cheek and drip off his jaw. He shook his head to clear it, ignoring trail of blood and the pain in his ribs. Mina and Cora were defenceless. 

“I never used to have to get my hands dirty.” Mac heard Myers say as braced his arms to push himself up. “I had people to do that. There was a hierarchy, there was _order_.” 

“There’s order after you get arrested.” Mac straightened until he was kneeling on the floor, “and a hierarchy of judges, lawyers and guards. My team have enough evidence against you to send you to prison for the rest of your life. You’ll love it.” 

“I said,” rage had Myers bearing his teeth as he lashed out again, this time with a brutal kick that drove Mac into the wall behind him to fall gasping on his back. “I don’t want to hear from you.” 

“Stop it!” Mina screamed. “Please stop.” 

Mac gasped for breath as he lay on his back, curling into himself as waited out the stabbing pain in his ribs to pass. Above him were lines and loops of chains and wire connections, linking the hoists and enabling them to be moved into place above the conveyer belts. Mac’s gaze caught on a chain and followed it as it snaked up, through and around the ceiling, calculating. 

Shouts and of gun fire carried into the room, Mac heard Jack’s voice in the melee, either yelling a battle cry or roaring in triumph. The fight was close and the sounds echoing around the building were clear and definitive. The Phoenix team were pushing forward and Myers men were being defeated. 

Myers jaw tensed and his hold in the gun tightened as he heard everything he’d been trying to build crumble. His empire, the affected ideals of deference he yearned for, vanishing from his grasp. All pretences of legitimacy and civility fell away as he turned to aim his gun at Mac. His eyes were wild but his grip on his weapon stayed perfectly steady. 

“You did this.” 

Mac fought to look past the barrel of the gun and at the man beyond it. He was drawing a breath to respond when Mina spoke. 

“No.” She faltered, her eyes quickly flicked to meet Mac’s and she gave a tiny nod of understanding and co-operation, then she swallowed and spoke again, “No.” The word firm and her posture straight. “You did this.” She stepped forward. “You left your crooked accounts where they could be found. Then men you hired failed, lost the baby you sent them to kidnap and let a government agency find her, and she led them to me. You should have stayed with your small, quiet business. The world has left you behind. You’re a relic. You’re incompetent.” 

Myers’ turned to aim his gun at Mina and Mac slowly started to rise. “I like moxie, Mina, it goes a long way, but I won’t stand for disrespect.” 

“You took my baby.” Mina’s voice was low and full of fire. Mac recognised the tone, it was the one Bozer’s mom used whenever she’d found them doing something she knew they knew they shouldn’t be doing. It was an authoritative voice, one that brooked no nonsense and couldn’t be negotiated with. It meant someone was in trouble. Even though The Voice wasn’t intended for him, calling to Mac with stresses on certain syllables of his name - “ _AN-gus MacGYVER_ ” - the sound of it made the space between his shoulder blades prickle. 

“You think I'm disrespecting you?” Mina continued. “I’m going to do more than that. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you go to prison and rot there like the worn out, pathetic little man you are.” 

As Myers snarled and tightened his hold on the gun Mac burst into action, standing and reaching up to jerk one of the chains above him down then rushing forward to push Mina and Cora to the floor, pulling them into him so he landed on the ground first and cushioned their fall. The chain Mac had pulled rattled and with a screech as rusted metal lurched into movement for the first time in years a hoist swung out and smashed into Myers, throwing him across the dusty floor and into a wall where he slumped down into a expensive suit wearing heap on the floor, and was still. 

  


Cora rested against Mac’s chest as he cradled her in his arms. The medical crew were checking Mina, who had only suffered a few bumps and bruises but had agreed to their ministrations without argument. The rest of the Phoenix team were unhurt expect for a few cuts and bruised knuckles. Jack had skinned his knee but since he’d done it sliding across the floor to take four bad guys out in quick succession he was as proud of his war wound as a small child showing off the bruises they’d gained coming off their bike in a spectacular fall (‘and then I flew right over the handle bars!’) 

“Your mom is pretty hard core.” Mac said to Cora as he wiggled his fingers for her to catch. “She stood up to the scary bad guy. She’s awesome, make sure you treasure her.” 

Cora cooed and reached up to put her little hands on either side Mac’s jaw. She grinned at him then yawned, pink and wide, like a baby sparrow asking for food. 

Mac put a hand on the back of her head to draw her to him and rested his cheek against her soft hair, feeling the rise and fall of her breaths and the shift in her weight as she relaxed into him. 

“Tired?” he asked. “Me too, little bird, me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song All My Life by the Foo Fighters.
> 
> Agents Chloe Benjamin and Rob Bareilles are mine. They appear very briefly in my story Some Music Needs Air and since I created them I feel responsible for them and decided that I was only fair to give them a part to play in finding Cora and Mina. I've become fond of them and they might have to pop up in other stories in the future.


	10. For you the sun will be shining - epilogue

Bozer was beaming. He’d snuggled close to Leanna in the chair they shared, his cheek resting against hers and their fingers twined together. 

Mac didn’t know anyone who loved weddings as much as Bozer. Except maybe Jack. Who loved the romantic optimism of two people committing to live their lives together, the chance to look sharp in a suit and a fully stocked buffet table. 

At this thought Jack wandered past Mac, chewing with gusto. 

“Dude!” he waved half an hors d'oeuvre at Mac. “You should try one of these. I don’t exactly know what they are but they’re good!” 

“I will, I’m just going to…” Mac waved an index finger around in a circle. Lean against a pillar and watch a wedding party happen around him? Yes. 

Jack wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the romantic optimism of two people promising to love each other. That was the whole point of it all, wasn’t it? The point of everything he fought for with the Phoenix? He wasn’t sure about Jack, Matty or his dad but Mac went to work and stood up against aggressors and injustice so that people could love each other in safety. Not just romantic couples but colleagues and friends, colleagues who were friends, friends who were family, and baby girls who’d been stolen and needed caring for until they could go home. 

“I’ll check the food out in a minute.” 

“Don’t wait too long, bro, or all the good stuff will be gone.” 

“Not if you leave some for other people.” 

“I’m promising nothing. There’s no mercy at a buffet table, it’s every man for himself.” Jack headed back in the direction he’d come from, eyeing up the cheese plate as he went. 

The light in the venue was soft and golden with little fairy lights twinkling their way up columns and around floral centrepieces. The guest had enough champagne and bonhomie in them for high heels to be kicked off, ties to be loosened and for them to slouch in their seats, leaning languidly against one another for support and comfort. There had been a clear divide between guests from the bride’s side and the ones from the grooms at the start of the celebrations but the lines were beginning to blur. A great aunt was talking recipes with a grandma, cousins were discussing football stats and groomsmen and bridesmaids were making eyes at each other across the dancefloor

“Mac!” Mina called, rushing over to him. She looked beautiful. Her dress and hair were stunning but they weren’t where her beauty shone from. She was happy. She glowed with joy, real and pure. The distraught woman who’d opened her motel door to him all those months ago had been a shell of the person in front of him. She’d been worn to the bone but not broken and had fought back and triumphed to claim back her life. The sense of humour and spirit Mac had seen hints of months ago had flourished, and have been given free rein in the bride and groom’s first dance. They newlyweds had started by swaying along to Unforgettable, but that had only lasted for one verse and a chorus before the song shifted abruptly into Don’t Stop Me Now with Mina with her husband jitterbugging as their guests clapped along with the beat. 

“Congratulations.” Mac was pulled into a hug given with rib cracking fervour. “You look beautiful,” he said into Mina’s shoulder as she squeezed him. “I’m so glad you invited us.” 

Mina pulled out of the hug and held Mac at arm’s length, her fingers clutching his arms. “You’re the reason this wedding is happening. All of you. If you hadn’t found Cora and cared for her this wouldn’t be…” she looked out at her wedding party, the mingling guests, her family and friends, “this just wouldn’t be. I’m happy you could all come. How is your dad?” She looked over to the table where James was sat with Matty and a friend of the groom’s. 

“The doctors say he’s doing really well, I think he wishes he was healing faster, but he’s getting there.” Despite all the work he put in with the physiotherapist James’ movements were still laboured. They still met each week for lunch and had conversations that included tentative honesty, nothing like the candour they’d managed when faced with blood and fire, but it was something. To Mac it felt like something. James turned to meet Mac’s gaze and smiled, nodding a greeting to Mina. 

“I know I’ve said it before,” the light in Mina’s eyes dimmed under shadows of remembered fear, “I can never repay what you did for me, and words aren’t enough for what I owe you, but I need to thank you and your friends.” 

“You don’t need…”

“No. I do.” Mina rose up to her tip toes and kissed Mac’s cheek. “Thank you, Mac.” 

Mac could have said that he only did what anyone would have done. He could have told Mina to think nothing of it, it had been his pleasure and, gosh darn it I was just doin’ my job, ma’am. But he didn’t. Mina needed to feel like she’d repaid some of the obligation she felt, Mac knew the burdens you felt you could never redeem were the heaviest to carry. And while caring for Cora had been a pleasure it was one that had taken from him in a way that no mission had before. It had gone beyond being part of his job to become something enlightening and redemptive, and had made him face parts of himself that he had forgotten or didn’t know existed. It had been daunting and exhausting and he would always be grateful for it. 

“You’re welcome, Mina.” 

She dropped down to stand flat on the floor and grimaced. “Oops, look at that!” she pointed to the spot on his cheek where she’d kissed him. “I’ve left a lipstick on you. That will never do, three people have already asked me who my cute new friend is and a big kiss mark on your face might put them off.” 

Mac ducked his head. “I haven’t, I mean, I didn’t…”

“Oh hush now,” Mina grabbed a napkin from a nearby table and dabbed at the red mark on Mac’s cheek. “What, super spies don’t get to flirt at weddings?” 

Mac was saved from replying when Mina spotted her mom waving at her to get her attention. 

“It looks like I have somewhere to be, you’ll have to excuse me.” She waved back at her mom then turned to Mac. “Promise me you’ll save me at least one dance.” 

“Of course, as many as you like.” 

“Even the Macarena?” 

“I might have to have more champagne before that can happen.” 

“Well charge your glass, pal because it’s happening.” Mina backed away, pointing back and forth between Mac and herself with an eyebrow raised in a challenge before heading over to her mother. 

Mac picked up his glass from the table next to him and took a swallow of his drink. 

A high pitched ting cut through the music and chatter and Mina walked into the dance floor tapping on the side of a glass with a knife. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt you but it’s time for the father daughter dance. We’ve decided we’d like to share this with everyone and I’d like to invite all the fathers and daughters here tonight to join us on the dance floor.” 

Mina’s father walked onto the dance floor and took her in his arms. Other couples joined them and the music started, a sweet simple melody under a clear, evocative voice. 

_“For you there’ll be no crying, for you the sun will be shining…”_

Mac looked up at Mina as he recognised the tune - Songbird. Mina caught his expression and winked at him. 

Older fathers with adult daughters swayed alongside little girls dancing with their daddies, some of them standing on their father’s feet to shuffle around the floor. Jack waltzed by with Riley. He was surprisingly light on his feet for a man who could kick a door down with the force of, in his words, a bad tempered mule in a door kicking down competition. Riley’s eyes were bright with amazed delight as Jack spun her under his arm, sending her red dress swirling. 

Mac was enjoying watching his friends ‘forward to the side together, backward to the side' together so much he didn’t notice Mina’s new husband, David, until he stopped directly in front of him with Cora on his hip. Cora attention was fixed on the buttons on her father’s coat and didn’t look up. 

“You’re Mac aren’t you?” David asked. “Listen, I haven’t had chance to talk to you,” He swallowed down the awkward catch in his throat. “Mina told me that you are responsible for my daughter being safe and cared for while she was away.” 

“She stayed with my friends and I for a while when she was in LA.” The Phoenix was a clandestine organisation and as such their involvement in bringing Myers Bell to justice was kept out of official records. Mina had been allowed to tell the people closest to her the truth about that happened but Mac was still evasive about his involvement out of habit. 

“I know Mina has already thanked you for what you did but I wanted to do something from me. I think, since you were her father when I couldn’t be, you should finish this dance with Cora.” 

It was rare that Mac was speechless. Years of bantering with Bozer and Jack had honed his skills at witty comebacks and clever ripostes. The last time he could remember being truly unable to utter words was when he’d looked down and saw Nikki standing in that hotel lobby after months of believing that she was dead. He was thrilled at the offer but reluctant to intrude on David’s special moment with his daughter. But then hadn’t he just accepted thanks from Cora’s mom because she needed to feel she had redeemed an unpayable debt? Why shouldn’t he do the same for her father? And Mac wanted to dance with Cora. So much. 

“I…” he stuttered, “thank you.” 

David stroked Cora’s back to draw her attention away from the flower in his button hole. “Cora, honey, look who it is.” 

They’d been in each other’s live for such a brief time and months had passes since they’d parted. Mac wasn't sure if Cora would remember him. He had steeled himself for such a possibility, telling himself to expect a wary glance or for her to duck her head shyly when she saw him. Instead she threw herself towards him with a shriek of glee, arms reaching out and a toothy grin wide on her face. Mac pulled her into his arms and stepped onto the dancefloor with a nod of thanks at David. 

“So, Little Bird, how are you?” 

Cora looked up into Mac’s eyes and burbled at him, a collection of sounds spoken with a clear intent and the expectation he would understand her. 

“Okay then, that’s good to know.” Mac said, swaying side to side as the other dancers passed them. “Are you having a nice day? You look very pretty.” She was wearing a dress full of lace and embroidered roses, and shiny purple shoes that she kicked against Mac’s sides. Some of the apple-cheeked plumpness of her face had gone, she looked more like a little girl than the baby she was in the picture of the two of them fast asleep in the War Room. Riley had printed the photo out and Mac kept it on his dresser next to the picture of his mom and the one of the team together on the deck taken the Christmas he’d made it ‘snow’. 

Cora jabbered back, ending with an enthusiastically blown raspberry. 

“You know, I haven’t sung a single song about boats or animals since you left. It’s always quiet at two in the morning unless that’s the time we get home from a mission. The floor of the lab is empty of toy filled paddling pools. I’ve missed you.” Mina and her father waltzed past, laughing warmly. Mina’s expression was radiant and her father’s full of love and pride. “I think you and your family are going to be just fine but if you ever need anything, if you need help with school or if you’re worried or scared, or you just want someone to talk to I want you to call me. I’ll always be there.” For someone tiny Cora had filled a big space in Mac’s home, in his life, in his heart. And since showing gratitude was a theme of his evening Mac offered some of his own. “Thank you. For letting me into your life. For trusting me when I didn’t trust myself. You made it easy for me to love you in a way I didn’t think I could. Thank you for being my Little Bird.” 

Cora chattered with a flow of purposeful babble, chronicling her day, expressing her thoughts, or just telling Mac that she was happy. 

Mac smiled as he listened to her, moving with the other dancers in time with the music. 

_“And the songbirds keep singing like they know the score, and I love you I love you I love you like never before.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge, enormous and heartfelt thanks and smooches to everyone who has commented or left kudos for this story. I really appreciate you taking the time to tell me you've enjoyed reading this and that I'm not just shouting randomly into the void. xxx
> 
> The chapter title comes from the song Songbird, which is the song Mac and Cora dance to. The song is by Fleetwood Mac but the version that I prefer and the one I played while I was writing this chapter is the beautiful one by Eva Cassidy.


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